


Home To You

by Hibkei



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bottom Louis, Famous Louis, Famous-ish Harry, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Only a brief glimpse of Niall Liam and Zayn, Pining, Singer Harry, Smut, Song Lyrics, minor appearance by Nick Grimshaw, minor appearance of Gemma Styles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:18:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 54,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8029264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibkei/pseuds/Hibkei
Summary: “If someone wrote that for me I’d probably be a crying mess before it was even over. I’m crying a little right now actually.”It’s about you, Harry’s brain screamed. I wrote it about you.Gemma appeared in the doorway then and dragged Louis away. With one winking smile he was gone. Harry curled up and stuffed his face into his duvet so he could cry with no one hearing.****At fifteen, Harry wrote his first song for an oblivious seventeen year old Louis Tomlinson. Ten years later he’s a singer/songwriter who cant find any words for his second album and Louis is a closeted actor tired of LA. They both try to run from the things weighing them down and in the process, they find each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daniellavictoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniellavictoria/gifts).



> I'm so happy I signed up on a whim to be a pinch hitter for this exchange. This was a rewarding challenge and I had so much fun with it. 
> 
> Thanks daniellavictoria for the interesting prompts. I really hope you like what I came up with. I know it's not your favourite from the list *hides* but I wanted to do the best job I could and this prompt inspired me the most.
> 
> Just quickly: Harry's a songwriter in this and I made use of some One Direction songs along with a couple other artists for his work. More details on that in the endnotes.
> 
> Finally some of the music that inspired me as I wrote:  
> 5 AM - Amber Run  
> Leave Your Lover - Sam Smith  
> Lay Me Down - Sam Smith  
> Something Great - One Direction  
> Home - One Direction  
> Kids - One Republic  
> Oceans - Seafret  
> Run - Nicole Scherzinger  
> Gravity - Sara Bareilles  
> Manhattan - Kings Of Leon  
> Waste A Moment - Kings Of Leon  
> A.M. - One Direction  
> Storm - Lifehouse  
> Talk Me Down - Troye Sivan  
> Better Love - Hozier  
> Moondust - Jaymes Young
> 
> Basically, listen to these and you'll cry but you'll be happy about it. You're welcome :)
> 
> I hope everyone who comes across this enjoys it. Thanks so much for reading!

Louis pushed into the low lit room. It was so dark in here that he could barely see where he was going. His shoes threatened to become permanently stuck to the floor with every step he took and the air smelled of old beer and cigarette smoke. This was not the kind of place anyone would expect to see Louis Tomlinson. That’s probably why he came here as often as he did. He’d been coming more frequently in the last few months than he had in years but at some point this place had begun to feel like home. A dive bar off a side street had somehow come to hold more meaning than his own L.A pad. Funny how he felt more himself in the dark than he did in the unforgiving sun. He could hide here. Why hiding meant home, was something Louis didn’t want to think about. It was something he couldn’t think about.

Louis walked up to the battered bar and took a seat on a creaking stool. The bar top was scratched and there were bottle caps stuck under a thick layer of clear lacquer. Ollie’s father had built this little dive with his own hands, crafted the bar himself. Louis guessed that was the reason Ollie wouldn’t dream of replacing or updating it. Perhaps that was why everything was just as his father had left it no matter how run down or tired the whole thing looked. 

It didn’t matter. There was beer, lots of it, and good whiskey and scotch. Most importantly, the people who came through here didn’t care who or what you were. Honestly, this was the reason Louis loved this place the most. No one looked, no one asked questions, no one wanted anything.

Louis knew tomorrow would be hell but he would deal with that when it came. All he wanted tonight was a pretty face to lose himself in and just enough whisky to make it seem like a good idea. It had been so long since he’d been with someone … anyone. He felt he deserved at least that after the past few days. What was supposed to be his downtime was turning into a circus and Louis had no desire to be the clown in the ring. It may have been in his job description in some perverse way but he was nothing if not the rebellious sort. He’d conformed enough and for now he was tired of it all.

Louis ordered a whiskey, neat, the most expensive one they had. Ollie was working the bar tonight just like he did most nights. It was as if he couldn’t trust anyone else to do it right. Louis was grateful for that, Ollie was a sort of friend, a constant. He’d known him ever since he’d moved to L.A, before Ollie’s dad had died. Then, Ollie was the scrawny red head out of place in the L.A. heat. Now, he was as pale as he could possibly be but he fit in here, melding behind the bar as if the universe itself had mandated it to be so.

He poured the drink and pushed it wordlessly towards Louis. Conversation was never really their thing. Never had been. Louis was fine with that. He wasn’t in the mood to bare his soul anyway. The amber liquid of the whiskey swirled heavy but instead of drinking it, Louis twirled the murky glass around and around with his fingertips gripping the rim. He stared into the alcohol feeling a sudden tiredness settling over his bones. The darkness of the room wasn’t helping in the least and his lids felt heavy.

Louis blinked and shook his head to clear it. He turned a bit to take in the room to see who else had wandered in here tonight. There was the usual type, men hunched over beers, whisky and scotch. There was a woman with blue hair selecting tunes at the juke box in the corner and past the kegs stacked on the floor Louis could see an intense, quite frankly, homoerotic game of pool taking place in the side room.

Louis snorted as he took in the two men concentrating more on each other than the game, using their cues as poorly disguised props as they licked their lips and stared each other down. His amusement quickly turned into a sigh and he finally took a taste of his drink. He felt the burn of the alcohol and immediately needed another. 

He continued to scan the room. He wanted something, someone. He’d told himself a long time ago that he wouldn’t do this anymore and he hadn’t. However, making an exception tonight wouldn’t hurt. He just wanted the feel of a man’s hands on his hips, pressing against his spine, against the column of his throat. He wanted the heat and the brush of stubble against sensitive skin. That really wasn’t too much to ask and he knew that he was okay here. Okay to be himself, at least to be some part of himself.

So far, there wasn’t anyone here that could do that for him, that would look at him the way those two men were looking at each other over the pool table. Louis finished his scan of the room and was just about to turn back to stare at the bottle caps stuck in place, when he saw him.

Sitting in a booth at the furthest end of the room, alone, turning a bottle of beer around in his large, large, hands, was one of the most stunning men Louis had ever seen. Only his profile was on display but that was enough for Louis to draw his conclusions. His jawline was razor sharp and pronounced as if he was clenching his teeth. His hair was long, full and curled at the ends where it fell just past his shoulder. Louis couldn’t really tell the colour but it was dark and Louis wanted his hands in it right away.

The man’s gaze was downcast, contemplating the beer in front of him. Louis was forced to take another drink when he ran a finger down the sweating neck of the bottle he was holding. It was as if he’d done it in slow motion and when he used that same hand to tuck his hair more firmly behind his ear, Louis gave up all pretence and stared openly.

It was as if there was a spotlight on this guy. There was no way Louis should’ve been able to see him as well as he was, not in this room where lighting was an afterthought. Louis could see him perfectly. It was as if he was sitting outside in the late afternoon sun rather than in a shitty bar in the middle of the night. He glowed and Louis was the moth. Louis wanted him. He wanted those large hands on his body, pushing him up against the sinks in the bathroom, slinking underneath his shirt and teasing his nipples. He wanted those hands pushing into his jeans, turning him around and pinning his front to a stall door.

He wanted to do dirty things, reckless things, all the things with those hands. His pulse raced as arousal began to pool in his groin. He groaned to himself. Clearly it had been too long. Whoever this guy was, he was a person who probably had someone waiting for him, a person who Louis probably couldn’t trust anyway.

He was just about to force himself to look away when the guy flexed the muscles in his arm, making a fist on the table top. Louis saw that there were tattoos. Dark ink swirled its way up his arm, snaking under the sleeve of his shirt. Louis couldn’t make them out but if he was turned on before, he was hopeless now.

The man shifted as if he could feel himself being watched and Louis didn’t even have the decency to feel ashamed. The attraction was twisting in his gut and he hadn’t even gotten a proper look at the man’s face yet. He shifted more, lifting his head and turning it in Louis’ direction before lowering it again and sticking his tongue out to take a sip of his beer.

That small action - it was barely even noticeable this far away - jolted Louis so badly, he almost fell from his barstool. There was something so incredibly familiar about it. Louis’s breathing picked up again, this time for a different reason than it had just a moment ago. He stared harder. The guy took another sip of his beer, his tongue peeking out just a little before his mouth connected with the bottle.

He was oblivious to Louis’ presence as he continued to drink his beer but Louis was in crisis. There was a boy he used to tease mercilessly about that very habit. Always peeking his tongue out before any food made it to his mouth. Every time, without fail. Louis had seen it hundreds of times. He knew that face. The last time he’d seen it, it had been a lot younger, rounder, but it was still the same. Louis knew that curly hair back when it had been a halo of rich brown around his head.

Harry.

Louis’ heart stopped for one insurmountable second before starting up again at a frankly dangerous pace. He wanted to turn and run even though no one was chasing him. No one was even looking at him. He felt his face heat in embarrassment. He felt it travel all the way down to his chest on its way to his toes. His whole body was aflame for the wrong reasons.

“What the fuck’s the matter with you?”

Louis ignored Ollie's question. He was good at that. He slid off his stool with the intention of going home, getting in bed under the covers and staying there until he was nothing but bones.

He paced a little in front of the bar, no doubt looking deranged to Ollie and anyone else. He felt like he needed ten very, very cold showers. Harry, or as Louis used to call him, _his little brother from another mother_. What was Harry even doing here? Why was he sitting in this shitty place at this hour, by himself, sipping on beer and looking at nothing? Of all the things that could happen, how could this be one of them? Louis had to leave, he had to go before Harry saw him. Harry would probably be able to see every dirty thought that had been parading through Louis’ mind on full volume. Oh god, he’d had impure thoughts about Harry. Gemma’s little brother.

Louis wanted to pull at his hair, to duck under the bar, to be as dramatic about it as he wanted to be. But no. He had to calm down. This wasn’t that big of a deal. Come on. He was an adult and Harry was an adult too. They weren’t kids anymore, hanging around their houses in England bored out of their minds. It was fine, it just couldn’t happen again.

Also, he couldn’t just see Harry and leave. They’d lost contact years ago but he hadn’t forgotten him and he’d never forgive himself if he just walked out and didn’t say a word. Louis swallowed down the rest of his drink in one gulp needing the fortitude the alcohol afforded. He asked Ollie for another, gripped the bar top and steadied his breathing. This was fine. This was completely fine.

*** *** ***

Everything was shit and running away wasn’t helping. His phone was off, he hadn’t checked his emails in days, Harry was determined not to see another person he knew for as long as he could.

_“Harry you’re better than this. Harry he’s not good enough for you. If you keep this up you’ll lose everything.”_

_“Harry don’t be like this you bastard. We’re better together. You can’t do this on your own.”_

_“He’s a piece of shit Harry. He’s dragging you down with him.”_

_“You always let your family tell you what to do. Don’t you love me Harry? If you loved me you wouldn’t tell me to leave.”_

Everyone’s words and advice and caution and admonitions had converged in his mind into a solid wall of noise. He’d been banging his head against it for months. He was bloody and bruised and no closer to being free. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This isn’t what he’d dreamed of when he signed his recording contract. He was going to sing and it didn’t matter if it was to millions or thousands or hundreds, it only mattered that he was able to get up on a stage and share a little bit of his soul with those willing to listen. He was supposed to be happy, to be fulfilled. He wasn’t supposed to be so pulled apart that he could barely breathe. 

_“Have you started writing for the new album?”_

_“Why aren’t you writing?”_

_“We need something new, something fresh. We need the second album. This is going to be the one. This will be the one to take you from critical success to mainstream. You’ll break America, everyone will love you.”_

_“Harry time’s running out, either you give us something or we have to move on.”_

So far, the only thing Harry seemed capable of breaking was himself and as for love, he wrote about it, sang about it but it eluded him. Always. He’d been reaching for it, grasping since he was a teenager. He fancied himself to have found it once in the face of the most beautiful boy with the most beautiful blue eyes but right now in this dark bar, his mind was telling him it had only been youthful folly.

Some years ago he’d thought himself very grown up when he’d reached out for love and reeled Nick in. He’d been playing small but regular gigs at a string of pubs back in London, making enough to split the rent on a not too shabby flat with his musician friend Ed. 

Harry met Nick at his favourite pub. The decor was kitschy, the patrons were always in a good mood and it paid the most too. Nick had just started as a bartender there. It was actually his first night and the way he looked at Harry was the way Harry had been longing for. At least that’s what he thought at the time. 

They’d ran around London stamping their names on every part of it, being wild and spontaneous and all the things Harry thought he wanted. It was volatile. It was sharp and bitter like vinegar and Nick told him that was how it was supposed to be, that was how love was supposed to feel. Harry didn’t know if he believed that but Nick told him that he was too much of an idealist, hung up on a boyhood crush that hadn’t been any realer than his hope to make it in the music business.

That stung him. He felt the welt it left behind even now. The people you love, the people who love you, should be the ones who believe in you always. But he’d made it, in a way. He was getting there. He got the record deal with the coolest indie label in the city. He did get to record an album and tour the UK and hear his music on the radio, hear himself sing about the kind of love he believed in. The kind that didn’t sting, that didn’t feel bitter, that didn’t cut his skin. The kind that had a glow around it even when you couldn’t grasp it, even when it stayed permanently out of reach.

Music critics loved it. They said Harry Styles made them believe in love again because he sung about it with an authenticity that someone in their early twenties just should not possess. Harry wanted to tell them, that’s what happens when you fall in love at thirteen, when you’ve had years to spin it around in your mind, turn it inside out and examine it from every angle. It’s the result of hiding in your room when your big sister brought her best friend by because you couldn’t look him in the eye without turning an embarrassing shade of red. They said that Harry Styles sang about love like it was elusive. That’s because for him it was.

Maybe Nick could feel that and that’s why he treated Harry the way he did. Maybe the cheating and the drugs and the drinking and yelling were somehow his punishment for not loving Nick like he loved the boy in his songs.

Harry turned his beer around and around in his hands as he rejected that thought the same way he’d had to so many times in the past few months. Nick had been an arsehole before Harry met him. Harry had forgiven him so many times, even when he snuck away and cheated on Harry with the people who had come to see him sing on his tour. Nick always made it seem like it was Harry’s fault. If he’d been more of what Nick needed than it wouldn’t happen in the first place.

Nick always said he was older than Harry so he knew these things. Harry believed him some of the time but not anymore. Louis was older than Harry too and he would’ve never. Harry made a fist on the tabletop. Even now he still thought that way, every now and then he would compare people to someone he hadn’t spoken to in ten years. He needed to stop doing that. Nick was a piece of shit and Louis was better than him but still, he needed to stop doing that.

What he needed to do was finish his beer, go back to his hotel room and try his best to come up with something for his second album. If he couldn’t, he was going to lose everything he’d worked so hard for.

There was movement on the edges of his vision. He looked over and saw someone pacing back and forth over by the bar. He was quite small in stature with a presence that was bigger than everyone else in the room combined. Harry took another sip of his beer as he watched him. Back and forth with quick, elegant steps. He was so light on his feet it was like there were little springs in his Vans. Harry looked him up and down, once, twice, then choked on his beer.

Oh god, Louis Tomlinson was pacing back and forth at the same bar he was in, clearly having some kind of existential crisis. Harry sputtered, trying not to choke to death because it would be just like him to do something that embarrassing with Louis present. Louis was facing away, his back turned but Harry recognised him anyway. Harry could probably identify Louis by his eyelashes if he needed to.

It was really him. Louis. After all this time. After ten years. Harry felt his eyes prickle, filling up. The tears blurred his vision of Louis and he blinked them rapidly, willing them away. He put a hand to his forehead not sure what to do. 

Louis was … he was the same size he’d been when he left their small town to move to America to act in a television series. He hadn’t grown an inch, Harry was taller than him now, bigger. When he’d imagined holding Louis is his arms he’d always supposed they would be the same height, but no, he could fold Louis into his body and Louis’ head would probably rest on his shoulder. He saw in his mind how it would be, correctly for the first time and he wanted to feel it so badly he could taste it on his tongue. Louis was right there. So close.

Harry’s hands started to shake. Just before he came here, he’d been watching one of Louis’ movies bundled up in the hotel room’s duvet. He’d brought his collection of Louis’ films with him from London, the only damn thing he’d taken time to check before he’d left his flat. He hadn’t brought enough pants but he’d brought Louis’ movies.

Louis Tomlinson. Oh, he was coming over. Harry’s palms started to sweat profusely as if he was still the kid stealing glances of Louis, almost too shy to even wave a hello. Only no, he wasn’t that kid anymore.

Before he even registered what he was doing, he stood up and barrelled into Louis’ arms. He should be embarrassed and he would be in a few minutes but for right now hugging Louis was the only thing in the world that mattered. Louis’ arms came up around him after a slight hesitation and Harry realised that this was only the second time in his life that he’d gotten a hug from Louis Tomlinson. The first time had been a goodbye and a promise to keep in touch. That hadn’t happened. Harry had been sad about that, had even cried about it a few times but he’d never been mad. He’d never really expected anything different. After all he’d hardly done anything to make a lasting impression. 

“Louis!”

“Harry.”

They smiled awkwardly for a moment before Harry invited him to sit with him. They sat quietly looking at each other, incredulous smiles on their faces.

“This is unexpected,” Louis said gesturing with his hands towards Harry. 

“Beyond unexpected,” Harry agreed. 

He took to picking at the label on his beer bottle. Since arriving in L.A. he’d entertained the idea of trying to find Louis, maybe calling Gemma and seeing if she still had a contact even though he knew they hadn’t spoken in years. He’d even imagined just randomly running into Louis on the street somewhere and what that reunion would be like. But now it was actually happening. Louis was right in front of him and he was at a loss for words.

Louis cleared his throat, fidgeting a bit in his seat. Harry looked at him. He looked like an overcharged battery with no outlet. He couldn’t keep still and Harry wondered if he was nervous too. Why would he be?

“What have you been up to Harry?”

“I’ve been singing,” He said proudly.

Louis raised his eyebrows in a quick gesture that Harry had seen countless times. A slow smile spread across his face until the whole thing seemed lit from within. Harry had no choice but to echo it, feeling a sense of pride that Louis seemed so genuinely pleased.

“That’s amazing. You were so good when we were kids.”

Harry thanked him with a blush to his cheeks.

“I’m still acting,” Louis said then, almost as an afterthought, as if he was throwing out a piece of information that Harry may or may not be interested in. Louis really had no idea.

“Oh I know,” Harry said with enthusiasm, gripping his beer with both hands and leaning forward. “I’ve seen all your stuff, you’re one of my favourites, the way you command the screen is incredible. _Blue Hydrangea_ is one of the most beautiful pieces of work I’ve ever seen and you, you were mesmerising.”

Louis seemed a bit taken aback. He clearly hadn’t expected Harry to be familiar with his work, at least not to this degree. Harry was inwardly kicking himself for sounding like an idiot and going off like that when he really hadn’t intended to.

“Wow … thanks Harry. I had no idea you-- it means a lot.”

Harry went back to picking on the bottle label and slumped back in his seat. He didn’t want to make Louis uncomfortable. He didn’t know what he wanted but he was pretty sure it was to stay here forever. He had the unpleasant feeling that as soon as he walked through those doors he would never see Louis again.

“Give me your phone.”

Harry looked up and saw Louis studying him with an intensity that made him flush. “Sorry?”

“Your phone Hazza, I want to make sure you have my number so we don’t lose each other again.”

 _Hazza._ Harry fumbled with his too tight jean pockets, trying to get at his phone as quickly as he could while still maintaining some illusion of composure. He hadn’t heard that nickname since he was fifteen. Louis was the only one who called him that. Harry wanted to reach across the table and hug him again because with just that one nickname Louis made Harry feel better than he had in weeks. Instead, he handed Louis his phone with trembling fingers which Louis didn’t seem to notice.

Louis rang his own phone with Harry’s then handed it back, admonishing Harry to give him an interesting contact name and a personalised ringtone and promising he would do the same. They chatted a bit after that, easing into a comfort they hadn’t had even when they were at school together. Harry was always too nervous to really engage Louis and Louis at least in Harry’s estimation was too busy and important to pay Harry too much mind. When Louis excused himself to the bathroom, Harry had to admit he was a little relieved. He would use the time Louis was gone to calm his nerves. 

Louis looked at himself in the smudged mirror above the sinks. The reflection looking back at him seemed a little lighter than he’d felt when he’d arrived earlier. He definitely no longer felt tired. There were little zips of energy running through him. He laughed to himself as he washed his hands, admitting that he hadn’t wanted to get up from the booth and leave his conversation with Harry even for the time it would take to relieve himself.

He thought of how beautiful Harry was and how he’d wanted him so badly. He still did, but that really wasn’t important anymore. There was a slight something in Harry’s eyes when they’d first sat down. It disappeared quickly after, but it had been in that bear of a hug he’d gotten from Harry too. Harry seemed a little bit lost.

As Louis dried his hands, he thought of the day he and Gemma had become friends. It had been miserably chilly and wet and students were rushing about the school yard, everyone too grumpy and cold. He’d been waiting for his friends when he saw the little Year Seven boy, his curly hair damp with rain, huddled under an awning. Louis ran over to him and offered him his jumper, asking his name. Harry refused him more than a few times before giving in and pulling the warm garment over his head. Louis missed it right away. He hated being cold but honestly it was worth it to see the smile on Harry’s face.

Later that morning he was approached by Gemma, a fellow Year Nine who’d recently moved to Doncaster. She was carrying a jumper in her hands in their navy blue school colours. She beamed at him like he was the best thing she’d ever seen and explained to him that they were friends now because he’d been so nice to her little brother. She then gave him Harry’s jumper that she’d brought with her when she realised that he’d forgotten his at home. Apparently he’d refused to switch so Louis could wear Harry’s if he wanted. He did want. He didn’t think too much about the fact that Harry’s clothes fit him just fine even though Harry was two years younger. Even after countless visits to Harry’s house over the next four years to see Gemma he’d never given the jumper back and Harry hadn’t either. 

The memory lingered as he slid back into the booth opposite Harry. It was something he was pretty sure he’d forgotten, not having thought about it in years, but with Harry here now it felt so recent and with it he felt that same protective tug he’d felt then.

“So, why are you in this bar of all places?” 

As soon as he asked the question, Louis could see the wheels begin to turn in Harry’s head. It was that moment when he would decide how much to say, how much to give. The socially expected thing would be for Harry to give him a noncommittal answer, something light, but Louis could see there were heavy things going on and he tried his best to silently show Harry that he could unload it all if he wanted to.

Louis clearly did something right because Harry did unload. They got another round of drinks as Harry told him about his career, about his music and his label and being openly bisexual. Harry told him about Nick who Louis hated from the moment Harry said his name. How someone could even consider treating Harry that way was something that Louis couldn’t comprehend. He told Louis how that relationship had soured him on London, his favourite city and how he couldn’t stay in his flat and how he’d lost his words and was blocked, not able to write for his second album.

“This has never happened to me before. If I don’t write they’ll … I don’t even know…”

Harry was twisting a beer label around in his hands, the paper, wet with condensation, turning to pulp under his fingers. “I’m worried all the time and I miss the city but I … I ran here and it’s not doing what I thought it would.”

Harry seemed to be dealing with the aftermath of a shitty relationship and the pressure of sophomore success. That had to be immense. From the sounds of it there were a lot of people expecting a lot of things from him and he was just about to his limit with all of it.

Louis had a sense of what that was like. The more successful he was in his career, the more pressure there was to stay relevant, to choose projects not just because he was interested in them but because they would give him the most exposure or the right exposure. It could get tiring. However, He didn’t have anyone dragging him down like Nick had been doing to Harry and he could only imagine what that must have been like. To do all that he’d done with that kind of weight around him was impressive and Louis told him as much.

They stayed tucked away in their booth until closing time, talking and drinking, Louis making Harry laugh as much as he could which thankfully wasn’t too difficult a task. By the time they parted, Harry had a little light in his eyes, even if they were dropping, and his smile was bright the way it should always be. Louis told Harry he would get his words back and Harry looked at him in a soft way that made Louis’ insides twist into themselves.

He left Harry with a promise to call and spend more time together. Burying himself under the covers alone that night, Louis’ bed seemed simultaneously warmer and colder than it ever had.

*** *** ***

It was early. Too early for this shit. It would always be too early for this shit. The sun was already blinding, Louis hadn’t had his tea and people were yelling at him. Currently, it was his publicist’s turn. The words unprofessional, rude, and inconsiderate were blurring in his brain making a soup of a very undesirable consistency.

He’d known this would happen and well, he couldn’t really be mad, they were right. It was unprofessional and rude and damn well inconsiderate to ditch your girlfriend right in the middle of a romantic dinner date. Although the unprofessional bit was only relevant because the relationship wasn’t the most traditional, in that it only existed in the media. Louis sighed for the hundredth time since he’d been woken up.

“Did you not agree to this? Am I missing something?” His publicist Ryan, asked.

“Nope you’ve got it.” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. Great, a headache was on the way.

“The paps were waiting, that’s time and money for no shot.”

“They got arrival pics at least, that’s something.”

“You think this is funny?”

“Not even a little?”

“How do you think Mariella feels? What about her?”

Mariella, Mari, his ‘girlfriend’. Louis wasn’t sure how she felt. Guilt forced its way through his defences as he thought about her sitting in the restaurant alone.

“I’ve got to go Ryan.”

“You need to do better Louis. It’s been four years, this is a good situation for you, don’t fuck it up.”

Louis disconnected the call without responding. Last night was the anniversary dinner celebrating four years of relationship bliss, all well documented by the paparazzi incase anyone in the general public had forgotten. 

Louis wandered out to his balcony. He should probably call Mari and apologise. It’s just that last night had been one night too many. He’d walked up to the entrance of the restaurant holding her hand, light bulbs flashing and blinding the both of them, and he’d wanted to scream. For the first time he’d wanted to break their cameras and flip the tables and just yell. That would’ve made for another kind of story though so he’d grit his teeth as much as he could and smiled his media smile but he couldn’t make it all the way through. He’d ditched her, left her alone. He couldn’t make himself feel too badly because if he hadn’t then he wouldn’t have seen Harry and now that he had, he couldn’t imagine missing that opportunity.

He leaned on the railings as his phone buzzed again. This time Mari’s publicist had some choice words for him. Then it was his agent and then her agent and her manager and then his manager and then Louis seriously considered dropping his iphone into the brush below and disappearing forever.

He turned and slid down the glass barrier until he was sitting on the tiles. They still held a bit of chill from the night and he pressed his hands to the cool porcelain stone. Pulling his phone out, he dialled Mari’s number and waited.

“Louis you fucking bastard!” Mari yelled at him too but she couldn’t hold it for long and quickly dissolved into laughter. 

“Mari, I’m sorry about last night.”

She sobered when she heard the serious tone of his voice. “Oh Lou please, has the world ended? Has the apocalypse begun because you didn’t finish dinner? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Mari be serious,” Louis laughed a little, the first since he’d woken up and for that he was grateful.

“Okay, okay I’m totally serious. This is me being serious. Ready? Fuck them. I can only imagine people have been yelling at you and I know you hate mornings so the combination must’ve been extra awful.”

Louis leaned his head back against the glass.

“As charming as my personality is, I’m not surprised you bailed. It can get tiring can’t it?” She asked this with a quietness that made Louis close his eyes to absorb it.

“Yea it can.”

“You’ve got downtime, a few months without any commitments. Take advantage of that and just go somewhere, get away from all of this, get away from me.”

“Mari no, don’t say that. I love you, you know I do.”

“Yes. I am also sick of you.” She laughed again and Louis joined her.

“We’ve got appearances to make though, quite a few actually.”

“We should’ve never signed a contract and made this whole thing official but it’s almost up anyway remember? Negotiations are soon. You can’t see me but know I’m rolling my eyes at the very idea.”

Louis laughed again. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we both be brats, though for you it’s much more of a natural occurrence--”

“Whatever.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, we both be brats and act difficult, like we’re rebelling until we get the new contracts in place and get the terms we want or what the fuck ever.”

Louis sat up opening his eyes. He perked up more than he had yet, feeling like he could see some sort of light up ahead with the words Mari were saying to him.

“So last night was a good thing really,” she said. “Now I retaliate and get bitchy and we both refuse to cooperate. Meanwhile you just go somewhere, sleep all day and watch loads of bad tv. At least that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Mari, I really do love you,” Louis said with feeling.

“Yea, yea I love you too.” Louis could practically see her feigning interest in her nails and rolling her eyes.

After ending the call with Mari, Louis paced the length of his balcony as he came up with what he would say. After a few minutes of rehearsal he called the necessary people and put on what he thought was an oscar worthy performance. He had to say some harsh things about Mari and he would’ve felt bad if he wasn’t completely sure she was ripping him to shreds herself with the kind of relish that only she could muster. He almost broke a few times and laughed but he held it together, practically twirling through his house as he made sure he came across as petty and dramatic as he could.

Louis was thrumming with energy. He bounced around his space wondering what he should do next, wondering where he should go. The feeling of lightness that had begun to settle over him last night continued to envelop him and he felt a bit like anything was possible. He loved that.

He was perusing the leftovers in his fridge when a thought started to form in his mind. He initially brushed it away, but over reheated chinese it only solidified. He was having a beer on his balcony when he finally gave in and picked up his phone.

*** *** ***

Harry curled up further under the covers and put a pillow over his face. Two muffled screams later and some of the tension had dissipated. He moved the pillow away and glanced at his open journal sitting on the nightstand, the unlined pages blank. He put the pillow back in place and screamed some more.

He’d been at this activity for at least an hour by now; look at blank page, scream, repeat. Sometimes he switched it up by picking up his pen and twirling it around his fingers but that particular bit had been cut out when he’d thrown the pen against the wall in frustration. The other side of the room was way too far to traverse at the moment.

The morning had been spent answering calls and texts to his parents and his sister Gemma, being yelled at for having his phone off and leaving the country without saying. He apologised and assured them all that he was okay and then had dedicated his day to getting some writing done. Cue afternoon and utter failure. 

Harry tried to hold on to the bit of light last night had unexpectedly brought. In the bar with Louis he’d felt a whisper of something, the ghost of inspiration clutching at him but in the harsh daylight it was gone.

He rolled onto his stomach and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t even eaten yet. His stomach was grumbling and he considered reaching for the room service menu. Maybe he should go for a walk, get out of his stuffy room and find something to eat on the way. It might invigorate him. 

He sat up and patted the bed around him, rifling through the rumpled sheets for his phone. His fingers had been itching to text Louis all day but he was trying to be his best, chilled self. Harry didn’t want to annoy Louis or bore him until he decided to disappear for another ten years. 

When the first texts and calls had come in this morning, Harry briefly entertained the idea that some of them would be from Louis. He knew better and was proven right but still, a guy could dream.

He couldn’t find his phone and almost gave up until it started to buzz from somewhere in the room. Harry whipped his head around, desperate to locate it as he heard the first notes of Louis’ personalised ringtone. 

“No, no no no …”

Harry hopped off the rumpled bed, got his foot tangled in the sheet hanging off the corner and fell hard. The buzzing and music stopped. Harry closed his eyes.

“No …”

He’d landed sideways, parallel to the bed with his foot twisted in an odd way. Thankfully, his feet were always twisted in an odd way according to his sister and there seemed to be no damage done. It wasn’t his fault he was clumsy. 

He opened his eyes and came face to face with his phone, the black rectangle encased in pastel pink, mocking him from its place under the bed. Harry groaned. The phone started to buzz again, Louis’ tone spilling from the tiny speakers. Harry quickly reached an arm out and grabbed it. He answered it from his position on the floor.

“Hey-- hi-- hey,” Harry scrunched his face in utter disgust with himself.

“Hi Haz,” Louis said. 

He sounded excited. Harry scrambled up from the floor, almost falling over again in his haste.

“What’s up?” Harry rolled his eyes at himself and sat crossed legged in the middle of his bed.

Fifteen minutes after Louis ended the call, Harry still hadn’t moved. Apparently he was going back to London tomorrow. Specifically, he was going back to London and Louis was going with him. They were going to stay together in Harry’s flat for a couple of months. Together. At the same time.

Initially Harry had instinctively balked at going back so soon. He’d just left. He’d come out here to write, going back felt like a failure. He rattled all this off in between too small breaths because what he really wanted to say was that he couldn’t believe Louis really wanted to do that, to spend that much time with him. He was feeling way too nervous and decided to do that thing where he acted like he didn’t want something that he very much did want.

Louis of course didn’t know that was happening and therefore, set about trying to convince him with various arguments and in the process said some things Harry really needed to hear.

_“You said yourself L.A. wasn’t doing what you needed.”_

_No one should ruin the things and the places you love. If you’re up for it, lets make some new memories, good ones.”_

Harry held on to those words. Louis was right and the thought of spending that much time with him was so incredibly tantalising. Harry felt like he was in a daze even before Louis was done speaking but one thing kept him from losing himself completely in the fantasy. Louis’ girlfriend.

It was a reminder that no matter how close he and Louis may become or how much time they spent together, friendship was all that was on offer and all that ever would be. He had to keep himself in check or else he was going to get hurt and he didn’t think he could do that again. He knew he couldn’t have Louis but he didn’t really want to have it spelled out for him in big _straight_ letters.

Harry couldn’t help but wonder about Mariella. She was a model, tall with wicked curves and she and Louis were in the media often enough for Harry to notice, even though he told himself he wasn’t paying attention. When it came to Louis, he always paid attention. If Louis had the downtime he told Harry he did, then why wouldn’t he want to spend it with his, quite frankly, gorgeous girlfriend? Why would he want to lay low in London with the annoying little brother of his childhood friend? Harry didn’t want to ask but he wanted to ask. It was an annoying contradiction and he couldn’t help himself.

Louis had gone silent for a couple beats too long. To Harry it felt like time stopped for those seconds. Eventually he learned that Louis and Mari - as Louis called her - were having a rough patch and had decided to take a bit of a break from each other.

Harry guessed that’s why Louis wanted to get away and he could relate in a way. He’d acquiesced easily after that, seeing it as the perfect way to be a good friend rather than just overly eager to have Louis to himself.

Now he was sitting and letting it all sink in. This was actually happening, he wasn’t dreaming. He had to make sure he hadn’t gotten stuck in some weird movie. This was L.A. after all. He couldn’t help but feel like the universe was playing some elaborate trick on him. He would wake up tomorrow, go to LAX and there would be no plane and no Louis and he’d realise that nothing had changed, everything was still as stagnant as the air in his hotel room.

Harry spied his suitcase lying open in the corner of the room, most of his clothes still in it as if it knew that he didn’t really belong here. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he hopped up with more enthusiasm than he’d had all day and packed up the few things that were scattered about. He decided he would go to the airport tomorrow anyway, just in case this was all actually real.


	2. Chapter 2

So this was happening. Louis was doing this. He was running from L.A. to London with the little brother of his best friend from secondary school. The now very much grown up little brother of his best friend from secondary school. The now ridiculously attractive but yet still charming and sweet, Harry.

When he’d called Harry to suggest it, Louis thought he’d have to do much more convincing and since he had no idea what he was doing or why he was asking, he figured it wouldn’t happen. For someone who’d talked so harshly of London and his flat there since his breakup, Harry had been surprisingly quick to get on board.

Louis wasn’t complaining. This was going to be fine. This was a great idea. 

Seeing Harry again had of course brought back all the memories of his friendship with Gemma. He’d loved her, still did after all this time. Their friendship had meant a lot to him during those teenage years and the way it ended, just fading away into nothing had been hard for him. He remembered their last conversation, so angry and unlike them. He remembered thinking it would fix itself in time. It hadn’t.

Harry was approaching, his long hair done up in a high bun with a tiny black headband pushing it back. He was holding something fluffy, hugging it to his chest and there was an excited smile on his face.

“Lou? You’re here.”

Odd. Where did Harry expect him to be? Louis just nodded that yes he was present and accounted for.

Harry sat next to him and extended his hand, offering Louis a fluffy lump. “I didn’t know if you would want-- I brought an extra, so much more comfy than the ones you get on the plane.”

It was a blanket. Louis didn’t speak right away, he couldn’t. Harry was just so … He’d always been so … 

“Yea, I know, it’s silly.” Harry retracted his hand with the offered blanket, his cheeks colouring a little.

Louis winced, feeling so incredibly annoyed with himself for how he’d short circuited and given Harry the wrong impression. 

“No no, I love it. Thanks Haz, that was really thoughtful,” he said, reaching out for the white and pink fabric.

Harry beamed at him, the smile a touch bashful but so incredibly full.

They chatted quietly and laughed loudly while waiting to board their flight to London. There was so much to catch up on and learn about each other and it felt so good to Louis to have Harry sitting beside him leaning into each other’s space as they talked. Harry’s voice was deep, like a rumble, he waved his hands about in big sweeping gestures as he spoke, and dimples appeared when he smiled. Louis found comfort in his presence. Everything about him was so warm and Louis found that it wasn’t hard to smile around him. By the time they settled in their seats on the flight, Louis was sure this was the best idea he’d ever had.

*** *** ***

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“What?”

“Listening to my music with me present. It’s so embarrassing.”

Louis just shrugged and smiled.

“I’m getting you back for this. We’re having Louis Tomlinson movie night and you’re going to suffer through it.”

“Sounds like a threat.”

“It is.”

“Shh, I’m trying to listen.”

Harry humphed and did his best to busy himself. His ears were burning knowing that Louis was hearing his voice and his words through those headphones. It was a sensation he’d never felt before. He was usually of the mind that the more people who heard him sing the better, but this was Louis. He’d often wondered if Louis had managed somehow to find his music and listen to it, he often wondered what Louis would think if he heard it. Harry wanted Louis’ approval even after he was long gone. But now that it was happening, Harry wanted to disappear. 

Would Louis know? Would Louis hear himself in the lyrics that were spilling into his ears? So much of the songs on that album were about admiration and longing for someone who had no idea, someone who didn’t see you the way you saw them. Would Louis conjure up his own face when Harry sang about the boy with the blue eyes? Did they stock parachutes on this plane? How would he go about getting one if they did? Would he survive the fall?

“You’re thinking too hard Harry, honestly it’s louder than the jet engines. If you’re worried I won’t like your stuff don’t be I’m already in love with it.” Louis looked at him, equal parts teasing and earnest.

 _I’m already in love with you._ Harry’s brain thought it like a reflex and he sighed to himself. He had to find some measure of control or else this situation could careen off the tracks and end with him being really and truly hurt.

Oblivious to his turmoil, Louis was bobbing his head and humming to one of the few uptempo tracks on the album. Harry tried to ignore him but he couldn’t. He kept stealing glances at Louis, settled in snuggly in the window seat, lost in the music. His attention was so attuned that he saw the moment when Louis sat up a bit straighter and opened his eyes, actually cupping his hands over his headphones as if that would help him to hear the music better. Harry sat up more too. He wanted to know which song was drawing that reaction from Louis.

Louis looked at him and Harry could see that he was battling with some emotion. He took his headphones off and regarded Harry silently for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak.

“This song, _Something Great_ , it’s familiar somehow. I feel like I’ve heard echoes of it.”

“I … uhm, I sang it for you once. I’ve changed it a bit since then but … yea, that’s why.”

Louis’ eyes lit up in recognition and an opened mouthed smile with a touch of wonder bloomed on his face. “Oh my god, yea you did. You were only like fifteen or something and I remember I couldn’t believe you were writing stuff like this.”

Harry laughed a little to himself without any humour. He couldn’t really believe it either. Though he’d refined it over the years the bones of the song were the same.

“It’s a bit more uptempo than I remember though. It’s as if you’re trying to make it seem like it doesn’t hurt as much as it does … at least until you get to the very end and it goes, _you’re all I want, so much it’s hurting_ , then it kind of just tears your heart out doesn’t it?”

Harry hummed noncommittally and tried not to crumble. Hearing Louis sing those words nearly did him in. He wanted to tell Louis how beautiful his voice was - all raspy and pure - but Harry wasn’t capable of forming actual words. He’d written that last piece just before he’d recorded the track. In Harry’s mind it encapsulated everything that he’d dreamed of when he wrote the song; to pour his heart out for someone and then have them say they wanted him too just as much. To hear it sung from Louis’ lips was almost more than he could take.

That song hadn’t affected Harry this way in a long while. But right now, it felt like he was back in his childhood bedroom, his voice scratchy, untrained, and riddled with nerves, warbling the lyrics out as Louis slumped against the desk giving his full attention. 

_“What are you working on Haz?”_

_“A song.”_

_“Can I hear it?”_

It had been a grey afternoon and Louis was over, waiting for Gemma. Harry had almost leapt out of his skin when Louis appeared in his doorway. He walked over to Harry’s desk, resting there as if he did it everyday. To this day Harry didn’t know where the courage came from but he was overcome with the need to share the song with Louis.

Harry looked at Louis. He had his headphones hooked around his neck. His angular face was sporting a thick stubble, the makings of a light beard. There was a ginger tint to it. Harry wanted to reach out and touch it. They’d really grown up. It made him a little sad that he’d missed so much. 

“You said something to me that afternoon that I’ve never forgotten,” Harry said.

“Oh?”

“you said, whoever they are you must really like them a lot. You said _they_. You didn’t assume it was about a girl. It was a little thing but it was huge to me.”

“I remember,” Louis said softly. Harry saw his fingers twitch as if he wanted to reach out but changed his mind. Harry wished Louis would, since he was too afraid to.

“I also remember your voice back then, it was so … it wasn’t done settling and changing but I could tell that it was something special, that you were something special.”

Harry wanted to cry. “I haven’t forgotten you saying that either. It gave me so much confidence because I really … I looked up to you.”

“Yea?”

“You have no idea,” Harry said with a shy smile. “It was one of the last times I saw you before you left.”

Louis rested his head against his seat, swivelling it to see Harry better. He looked like there was something he wanted to say and Harry waited with bated breath to hear what it was. He always hung on every single word that came out of Louis’ mouth. All of Louis’ words had been the best words when they were kids. 

“We’ve grown up and you’re so good Harry, better than good, bury me with this album good.”

Harry barked a surprised laugh, inwardly and outwardly beaming with the praise. This was better than every critical review he’d read.

Louis grinned at him. “You did it and I’m so proud. You did it and you’re this ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome man and your voice is full of smoke and charm and I missed all of it. I missed you.”

Louis did reach out then. He gripped Harry’s lower arm for a brief moment before leaning back towards the window, smiling at him fondly.

“Thanks Lou, I missed you too.” Harry said as he tried to surreptitiously wipe at the tears that had gathered in his eyes. There was a lump in his throat and he turned his heard towards the aisle to compose himself.

 _Tell him!_ his brain screamed. But Harry knew he couldn’t. Louis was straight, he’d heard Louis say so himself. Also, he had a girlfriend and besides, Harry had just gotten him back in his life. _Don’t ruin it. Don’t._

That afternoon, warbling that song out to Louis had been one of his bravest moments. He didn’t think he had many more left in him.

_One day you'll come into my world and say it all_  
_You’ll say we'll be together even when you're lost_  
_One day you'll say these words_  
_I've thought but never said_  
_You’ll say we're better off together in our bed_

_I want you here with me_  
_Like how I pictured it_  
_So I don't have to keep imagining_

Harry could hear Louis’ voice in his head as clearly as if he was still sitting on his bed, scraps of paper filled with lyrics scattered around him.

“Whoever they are, have you thought about telling them how you feel Haz?” He’d asked.

“They don’t see me that way.”

“You never know. If someone wrote that for me I’d probably be a crying mess before it was even over. I’m crying a little right now actually.”

Harry looked up quickly and saw that through his smile, Louis’ eyes were indeed shining a little more than usual.

 _It’s about you_ , Harry’s brain screamed. _I wrote it about you._

Harry wanted to tell him, he wanted to say something so badly but he couldn’t. Some part of him had hoped that he would sing the words and Louis would see without him having to say a word. Don’t fall for your straight friends was advice that Harry probably should’ve paid more attention to.

Gemma appeared in the doorway then and dragged Louis away. With one winking smile he was gone. Harry had curled up and stuffed his face into his duvet so he could cry with no one hearing.

Louis turned to him, head leaning against the side of the plane. “Did you ever tell them how you felt?”

So Louis remembered that part of the conversation too. Harry had hoped he wouldn’t.

“No,” Harry said quietly. He turned away, effectively ending the conversation.

Louis hummed quietly but didn’t question him anymore. He put his headphones back in place and resumed his play of Harry’s album.

Harry blinked away tears that had no business forming ten years after the fact and pulled out the book he’d brought along with him.

*** *** ***

Harry wanted to sleep for days but he doubted how much rest he would ever be able to get again. After ten years in which he was sure Louis had completely forgotten that he’d existed, he was standing outside his flat with Louis in tow and not just for a short visit. Louis was actually going to stay with him, sleep in the same flat, wake up in the same flat. He was going to see Louis all sleepy and grumpy in the morning and be the last person he saw before he went to bed at night. It was surreal. It was unreal. It threatened to overwhelm him.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you rented the stoop and not the actual inside space.” Louis poked him in the small of his back and Harry startled, realising that he’d been standing frozen on the front steps. 

“I wanted to tell you Lou, I just didn’t know how.”

Louis rolled his eyes and poked him again. 

“Alright, alright.” Harry pulled his keys out with shaking hands while thinking about all the things he wanted to tell Louis and knowing that he’d have to keep them to himself forever. That was fine though because Louis was here and that in itself was more than Harry had ever expected.

He pushed inside, Louis at his heels and waited for the discomfort to hit him. He hadn’t been back here since Nick had cleaned out his stuff, angrily throwing things into boxes and screaming out how worthless Harry would be without him. Harry did a full turn in the entryway, Louis watching him curiously. 

He felt it. He felt a twinge of Nick’s ghost. His coat was no longer hanging on the rack, a single key in the bowl where he’d left it. Harry slid his hands along the wall until he got to the first room, an office that he and Nick shared. He peeked his head into the open room, dark with the curtains drawn and saw the empty desk. Now it could be the music space he always wanted it to be. He smiled. He almost wanted to cry. He felt the ghost of Nick but he also felt a lightness he hadn’t felt in ages. God, he’d ran so hard and so fast but Louis had made him come home and it was the right thing. A good thing.

He turned to Louis. “Welcome to my flat. I shall give you a tour.” With that, he bounded up the stairs leaving a protesting and laughing Louis to follow behind him.

Harry showed him his Nick free bedroom, pushing the curtains aside to let in as much light as he could. Harry’s clothes were still scattered about the room, left behind in the rush to pack and leave. He didn’t mind Louis seeing his mess. He wasn’t sure why that was.

Next he showed Louis the guest room and bathroom where he would be staying and then bounded back down the stairs to show him the Living room. 

“This is quite nice Harry,” Louis said impressed with the spaces he was being shown.

“All of his shit’s gone so that’s a plus. Anyway, this is the living room.” Harry was in the middle of sweeping his arm out in a grand gesture but froze in place when he spied a picture on a shelf on the far wall that definitely shouldn’t have been there.

“What’s wrong?” Louis asked inching closer to him.

“That.” Harry dropped his arm, his good mood dampened considerably. He jutted his chin in the general direction of the offence and watched as Louis walked over and scanned the shelves until he found the photo of Nick. It wasn’t even one of the two of them, just of him and it wasn’t one that was usually on display. In fact, Harry had never seen it before.

Louis rested the photo back on the shelf a bit more roughly than necessary. “He’s a dick.”

“He fucking did that on purpose. Left that photo here.” Harry shook his head and fled the room, making his way into the kitchen. He made a closed fist and brought it down with some force onto the granite countertop. He bowed his head and pulled his hair free from its bun so it could hide him a little. It fell forward in a wave, obscuring his face.

“I’m not even-- I don’t know … I’m just angry.”

“You’ve got every right to be.”

Harry looked up to see Louis leaning against the countertop beside him. Louis’ blue eyes bored into him and he even seemed angry on Harry’s behalf. “Nobody gets to take this from you, nobody gets to take the places and the things you love.” 

Louis grabbed Harry’s arm and led him out of the kitchen and back to the living room where the picture of Nick stood in its frame, left behind like a taunt. Louis grabbed it from the shelf and threw it across the room. It made the most satisfying crashing noise that Harry had ever heard and he couldn’t help but be amused at Louis’ lack of hesitation in thrashing his flat.

“Fuck him!” Louis yelled, “and not in the fun way,” he added, waggling his eyebrows at a suddenly stricken Harry.

Harry recovered as quickly as he could and laughed in order to cover up the fact that he wanted to die. Louis was not allowed to allude to sex in his presence. He just wasn’t. 

“Fuck him!” Louis repeated with even more enthusiasm.

“Fuck him!” Harry mimicked, starting to feel a zip of adrenaline in his blood.

“Louder Styles!” Louis clapped his hands on each syllable. 

“Fuck him!”

“One more time for the neighbours and the rest of London!”

“FUCK HIM!”

Louis grinned wide and bright, his eyes twinkled in the artificial light of the room. “How’d that feel?”

“Incredible,” Harry said with a matching grin spread over his face. “God I feel so much better already. I felt better the moment I saw you.”

“I do have that effect.”

Louis had no idea how true that was. “I mean it Lou … I mean it.”

Louis didn’t respond, he just smiled some more. After a moment of grinning at each other like loons Louis walked over and toed at the mess he’d made. 

“So … who’s gonna clean this up?”

“You made the mess.”

“Yea but I’m a guest Harold, have some manners.”

*** *** ***

There was something on his back. Harry peaked an eye open and tried to shift around and yes, there was definitely a human sized lump squishing him into the mattress.

“Entertain me Harold,” the lump said, poking at Harry.

“You are a child. You grew up and became a child.” The words came out on a groan, even as a thrill zipped through Harry’s spine because now that he was waking up, he’d truly registered that Louis was currently draped across his back, pulling on his ears and his hair. Louis’ body was currently on top of his. Harry wanted to stay squished forever.

However, the universe hated him and never granted him his wishes. Louis rolled off him, coming to rest beside him instead. Louis’ eyes were closed, hands clasped over his chest with a peaceful smile on his face.

“You look dead.” It was Harry’s turn to poke at him.

“Of boredom.”

“Are you really bored already?” Harry panicked. It was their first morning back in London and he’d already managed to bore Louis. He’d gone to bed too early last night, he knew it. He should’ve stayed up longer but he’d been so tired and so eager to be back in his own bed. He’d already fucked up.

Louis peeked one eye open. “Of course not. I am hungry though. Let’s get breakfast somewhere.”

Harry turned his face into his pillow and tried to calm his nerves. He wanted to scream. He needed to relax. Louis was here because he wanted to be. It was his idea even. Everything was fine. 

“Uhm, if you suffocate how am I supposed to get food?”

Harry turned his head to face Louis again. He narrowed his eyes in his best menacing look. Louis grinned and hopped off the bed. He backed up to the doorway with an arched brow.

“By the way, nice to know you sleep in the nude Harold.”

Harrys eyes widened in shock and in his panic he did the worst thing he could, he twisted sharply to the side, effectively exposing himself to Louis as the treacherous sheet slipped further to give him a good view.

The smile slipped from Louis’ face and his mouth hung slightly open. Harry was stuck in place for a moment, wondering what the look on Louis’ face could mean.

“Uhm … I’m gonna just …” Louis backed up further, bumping into the wall and tripping over his own feet before finally making it out of the room.

Harry looked down at himself, half hard. He face-planted back into his pillows and contemplated the pros and cons of never emerging. There was a little voice in the back of his mind telling him that Louis clearly liked what he saw but Harry knew better. The voice was also telling him that he’d wanted Louis to see. He was not going to survive this.

Harry emerged from his room some time later in a pair of his favourite black skinnies complete with a white tee and black boots. He found Louis in the kitchen.

“I made some tea,” Louis said handing him a cup.

Harry thanked him, warmed by the gesture and the thought of Louis moving comfortably around his kitchen. He looked at Louis over the rim of the cup as he took a taste. Louis’ own tea seemed forgotten as his eyes were glued to Harry’s crotch. Harry’s face coloured as he cleared his throat.

“My eyes are up here Louis.”

Louis startled like he’d been caught but recovered quickly, looking at Harry like he didn’t have a care in the world. “I’m sorry, just wondering how you managed to fit all of that in there.”

Harry choked on his tea.

Louis smiled, triumphant. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Harry took them to Shoreditch. The area had a cool, it vibe, a veneer over grit and grime. It was interesting and Louis could see it filled with creative types bustling about, inventing, and innovating, and perpetually high.

They walked along, side by side, Harry running his hand against wrought iron fences as they passed until up ahead, an old victorian building came into view.

“Hardly anyone knows about this place.” Harry glanced at Louis, widening his eyes as if he was letting him in on a secret.

“If no one knows about it, then how are they still in business?” Louis challenged.

Harry stopped briefly before taking more steps. “Actually, that’s a good question. I hadn’t considered that.”

“Is this some kind of money laundering front?”

“Shut up. You’ll love it, I promise.”

“This is a creepy building.”

“Yea, It used to be a school. The restaurant is in the old bike shed.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “Okay, yea I like it already.”

Harry smiled, quite pleased.

“How’d you find this place?”

“Nick and I were in the area visiting one of his friends. The friend was being a dick, Nick took his side so, I left. I wandered around for hours until I stumbled across this little place. It seemed so peaceful here, a bit hidden away like it’s something special.”

Louis contemplated Harry’s words. The more he heard about Nick the less he liked him. He just couldn’t see Harry with someone like that. But then, what did he really know about relationships? The only one he’d ever really had wasn’t even real.

They’d come around to the back of the old victorian building and a closed gate. Slipping through a tiny side door they emerged into a small enclosed courtyard with no more than four tables and a building that must be the converted shed Harry mentioned, where three long wooden tables ran down the middle.

They opted to sit at a table outside and enjoy the morning sun before it got a bit too hot to be comfortable. They weren’t the only ones there, so much for Harry’s claim that the place was virtually unknown.

“It may have gotten a teeny bit more popular since I first found it two years ago,” he conceded.

“Right.”

It was modern and airy and surrounded by greenery. There were potted plants all around them along the edges of the small courtyard and hanging above them, tendrils reaching down and filtering the sunlight. It lent the space an ethereal feel and Louis couldn’t help but think how easily Harry fit into the image. He’d put his sunglasses up to keep his long hair out of his face and was smiling at Louis over his menu. Louis smiled back. 

The offerings were limited and Harry told him they changed almost every day so they decided to get everything they had incase they came back and couldn’t try something they’d passed on. They chatted while they waited and Louis traced patterns into the distressed wood of the table feeling at peace in the bright London sun.

Over granola and yogurt, toast, marmalade and eggs, Louis asked Harry more about his music and what it was like for him to be doing the one thing he’d always wanted. Harry got the same look in his eyes as Louis did when he read a new script he was excited by or when he showed up on set the first day of a new shoot. Talking about performing was the most animated Louis had seen him and already there seemed to be more of a confidence about him than there had been in L.A. Perhaps he drew his creative strength from London, from the familiar. Louis could understand that. He’d moved to L.A. from the age of eighteen but there was always something about England that invigorated him.

“I’ve got a performance for a LGBT+ charity event in about a month. I would love it if you came.” 

Harry was looking at him with hopeful eyes as if there was a chance that he wouldn’t. Louis didn’t even have to think about it. “Of course, I’d love to.”

Harry, pleased, went back to his granola and Louis was once again drawn helplessly to the way he ate. When they were teenagers Louis would never miss an opportunity to rib him about that tongue first habit and Gemma was never far behind. It was all in good fun and Harry though self-conscious would shrug it off and sometimes even exaggerate the movement. Then, it had just been funny, but right now it was quite close to causing Louis physical pain. He couldn’t help but think about Harry’s pink tongue in other places, wrapped around other things and he felt almost guilty about it.

He was getting over the delinquent feeling of having impure thoughts about Gemma’s little brother. He had to because clearly those thoughts weren’t going away. Also, they were adults now, the both of them. The slight guilt was more about not wanting to overstep this new friendship he’d found. Harry himself was probably just looking for a friend and Louis didn’t want to ruin this for either of them.

Harry’s pink tongue peeked out again and Louis wanted to die. He cleared his throat and asked Harry more about the charity event he was performing for.

It was one of Harry’s favourite charities and one he’d worked with ever since moving to London, even before he’d been signed. They offered resources and services to disadvantaged youths and Louis could see how important their cause was to him.

“It was the only thing I’ve been looking forward to for a while really.” 

He’d planned to stay in L.A. until it was time to perform and then figure out where to go from there. Creating, performing, those were the things that made any and all of the bullshit worth it for Louis and he suspected it was the same for Harry. 

That lost look was back in Harry’s eyes and Louis wanted to yell no. This couldn’t stand. He hated it but he didn’t know what to do. He did the only thing he could think of and teased him about his eating habits until Harry was laughing, his face flushed, embarrassment and mirth mixing together. His laughter was so much better. He should always be laughing.

*** *** ***

“No, it’s a trap! Don’t go in there!”

“Harry, you said you’ve already seen this.”

“I have, hush, this is stressful.”

“Oh god, this is embarrassing.”

“Shh, you’re missing it.”

“Who even are you?”

“Shut.”

“But--”

“Ah.”

“Fine. Pass the popcorn.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Harry looked at him from the corner of his eye and scrunched his nose a little, smiling. Just like that Louis melted and couldn’t find it in him to protest anymore. Instead, he put his feet up and sunk further into the couch cushions.

They were having that movie night Harry had threatened him with on the plane and it was just as embarrassing as Harry claimed it would be.

Louis turned his attention back to the screen, _Fool’s Gold_ was currently in progress. His character and his partner had just jumped on a motorbike and were busy weaving their way through traffic getting away as fast as they could. Louis vividly remembered trying to do at least part of that stunt himself. After stalling the bike three times, James, the director, had called it quits, forcing him to sit it out and let the stunt double handle it. His costar Shayla, hadn’t let him forget that one for months.

Louis watched as the bike zoomed through traffic with no regard for road safety. It all seemed so real, like something that could actually happen. That’s part of why he liked acting so much. On set everything was done in pieces and then all those parts were woven together to create this alternate reality that was zooming by on the screen. You could get lost in these worlds, escape in them, find yourself in them. He couldn’t see himself doing anything else.

This movie had been his first really big one. He didn’t really think he was going to get it when he’d first auditioned. He’d thought James was only being kind to even call him back for a second one. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in himself or thought he wasn’t good enough. It was more that the opportunity had been so big that Louis didn’t dare hope. But he’d gotten it and James assured him it was on talent and screen presence alone and not because he knew Louis.

He’d met James Corden about a year into his move to L.A. It was a rough time for him, the home sickness pressing in on every side. His parents told him he was so brave to make the move on his own and most of the time he agreed but sometimes he just felt lonely. There were industry parties and other young, hungry actors scrabbling to make it in what was an unforgiving business. He was lucky that he’d moved with a job, but that made him the envy of a lot of others and he often found himself wandering around his apartment alone, practically climbing the walls when he wasn’t on set.

As much as he loved the freedom of being on his own, being alone with his own thoughts all the time was heavy. Of the friends he did make, he was unsure how much of himself he could or should share.

Sometime during his first few months there, he’d realised he was gay. He’d questioned for a while, a few years really, but it settled with a finality that made him both relieved and unsure. Louis didn’t know how to navigate between this reality and his career. He’d decided that keeping his sexuality private was the best move for him. So far it had stayed that way. He’d definitely been encouraged in that direction.

He still remembered his management and agent finding out about him and the male costar Matty he’d been fooling around with. It was a short affair, tinged with the innocence of two young men newly exploring a side of themselves that they were just coming to terms with. He remembered the affair fondly but the ending not so much. There had been meetings, stoic and serious about what he would have to do if he wanted to really make it. He had the talent they said, did he really want to throw everything away or did he want to be successful. To this day Matty never really looked him in the eye whenever they crossed paths on a red carpet, Mariella on his arm and always some beautiful new girl on Matty’s.

Somewhere in the midst of this adjustment, he’d been introduced to James at an industry event. He was one of the most respected directors and film producers working and Louis didn’t expect James to give him a second glance, but he had. He gave Louis his number and told him to call if he ever needed anything. Louis figured James was just being kind and he never intended to actually make use of it. But one particularly bad day when he just needed someone older, someone who had things figured out to be there, he’d cracked and dialled the number feeling silly as soon as it began to ring.

James actually came over that afternoon and they played FIFA for hours and talked and Louis could hardly believe that James Corden was in his apartment in shorts with a paternal smile telling him that he would be okay. He was a mentor to Louis, treating him like a son. Louis lost count of how many times he’d been over to James and his wife’s house for dinner. He’d even babysat their son when he was still a baby.

James and his family were a constant in his life and he was eternally grateful for them. Having the opportunity to work with him did things for Louis’ resume that otherwise would’ve taken years. At twenty seven he didn’t have that many features under his belt but he was building a nice body of work consisting of bigger projects and smaller indie films. Because of this movie that Harry was currently biting his nails over, Louis had the privilege of being considered for a wider variety of roles than he otherwise might have been. 

Louis looked at his ankle where he was rapidly losing circulation. Harry had a vice grip around it, eyes glued to the screen. Shayla was currently searching for clues unaware that the antagonist was no more than ten feet away.

Louis wiggled his foot to get Harry’s attention as he started to lose genuine feeling in the limb. Harry apologised, loosening his grip and smoothing the skin absentmindedly before pulling away as he continued to watch. Louis missed the contact immediately but found himself also paying attention to the screen as Shayla moved around. She commanded it in a way that Louis envied, her dark skin seemingly illuminated from the inside. 

Shayla was incredible and Louis missed her. He hadn’t seen her in almost a year, the both of them too busy, always promising to hang out and then never doing it. She didn’t know about him but he knew that she was, as she put it, ‘spectacularly gay’. She had a beard who she could barely stand. Louis understood, he’d acted with him in another project and he was quite the dick.

Harry yelped as the bad guy leapt from the shadows and kidnapped a surprised Shayla, dragging her off screen as the scene ended. Louis reached for more popcorn. He didn’t want to miss this part. The bad guy was about learn that he’d made a very big mistake and he wanted to see every bit of the beat down Shayla was about to dish out while Louis’ character ran frantically all over the city trying to find her.

“That was intense,” Harry said about thirty minutes later. He got up to stretch, lifting his hands over his head, making his body appear even longer and more lithe than it already was. Louis averted his eyes for the sake of his sanity.

“I swear, that’s one of my favourite movies ever.” He looked at Louis and Louis found himself suddenly shy.

Harry moved about, looking for the next film to start. He’d told Louis that they were watching everything he was in even if he was only walking by in the background.

“We need more popcorn,” Louis said as Harry popped in the next disc. It was _Blue Hydrangea_ one of Louis’ favourites, though he’d only seen the finished product once during it’s Telluride Film Festival premiere two years ago. 

Louis dislodged himself from the comfort of the sofa and padded into the kitchen. He stretched a bit as he searched the kitchen cupboards for the microwaveable popcorn. They had about three more films to get through if Harry really was as serious as Louis suspected he was.

He finally found what he was looking for but it was high up and farther back inside the cupboard than it had any right to be.

As Louis was reaching for it, Harry walked into the room. His breathing stopped as he took in Louis standing on the tips of his toes, his t shirt riding up with his efforts and exposing a sliver of skin at his waist. Everything about him was graceful, even now he looked like a dancer. He was equal parts strong and delicate, all angles and curves.

Harry wanted to run his fingers across the expanse of skin, to feel it’s softness and the muscle underneath. He wanted to sink his teeth into it and lick his way to the sparse trail of hair disappearing into the waistband of Louis’ joggers. Harry couldn’t see it from his position but he knew it was there, his mind painted a vivid picture.

Harry cleared his throat. “Need some help?”

“I can get it,” Louis said as he stretched further, revealing even more soft skin.

“Yea you can.” As soon as the words were out, Harry stood stock still and wished for death.

“What?” Louis cocked his head slightly, his body otherwise frozen.

“What?” Harry echoed.

“You said something just then,” Louis pressed, twisting to look at Harry.

“Pretty sure I didn’t.” Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat.

Louis looked unconvinced but thankfully let him off the hook as he continued his attempt to retrieve the snack. His fingers kept brushing the edge of the cardboard box but he couldn’t quite reach. That little bit of skin on the curve of his hip kept calling to Harry.

Without thinking, Harry crossed the room in a few long strides and pressed his body against Louis’, trapping him against the counter. Louis stilled, his back to Harry’s front as Harry reached a long arm up and grabbed the popcorn with ease.

He’d meant to tease Louis, rib him about his height, but instead he found himself lost for words. He could swear that Louis leaned into him rather than away. He was sure he would combust from the light contact of their bare skin. It wouldn’t take much to cage Louis in with a hand pressed to the countertop on either side of him. It wouldn’t take much to press a kiss to the exposed skin of Louis’ neck.

“You-- you got it Haz?” Louis’ had practically moaned the words but it broke the trance.

“Yea-- yea.” Harry cleared his throat and backed up a few paces expecting Louis to bolt to the living room as soon as he could. However, Louis didn’t. He turned in place and just looked at Harry for a long moment. Harry averted his eyes, feeling his skin threatening to flush with the heat of the gaze.

He spun around, making a show of getting the popcorn into the microwave. When he turned back Louis had already left the room. Harry breathed long and slow, taking the air in and letting it out until he’d calmed. 

He shouldn’t be doing things like that. Harry was annoyed with himself. He’d been doing so well. He shook his head, his hair falling over his eyes with the movement. Through his obscured vision he walked back to Louis who was waiting for him back in his place, wedged into the sofa cushions.

As soon as he sat, Louis reached out and tucked his hair away and Harry felt relieved. There was no trace of anger or discomfort on Louis’ face or in his relaxed posture. Feeling so much better than he had just moments before, Harry settled in and started the movie.

“This one I think is my absolute favourite,” he said, stealing a glance at Louis.

“I’m starting to think they’re all your favourites,” Louis said in a teasing tone.

“Yea well, maybe if you weren’t so bloody good…”

Louis blushed and quietly thanked him. Harry couldn’t help but be endeared by how bashful Louis always got when praised about his work. Harry put his attention back on the screen then, as the camera followed Louis around his apartment as he got ready for work. 

Over the next hour and thirty minutes they sat in comfortable silence as they watched two male best friends, just out of university, navigate their twenties and fall quietly in love with each other. One wild and eccentric, the other quiet and controlled. It was the only LGBT+ film that he’d done so far and Louis ruefully remembered the increased interactions and public outings that he and Mariella were asked to do during the promotion as a result. 

He remembered being asked over and over if he was sure he wanted to do the movie. There might be questions, speculation. Louis hadn’t cared. He thought it was the most ridiculous thing. If an openly gay actor played a straight man on film no one one speculated that they’d suddenly become straight. So why should the opposite be an issue? It was called acting for a reason. Besides, his private life was his own and he’d compromised enough. He’d done the film and was incredibly proud of the finished product.

There was a calming, sweetness about it, two gay men being themselves with family and friends, dreams and goals. There were no huge set pieces, no tragedy, just a soft inevitability that brought the two oblivious friends together by the end.

Louis tucked his arm under his head resting on the sofa cushion. He curled up a little and when his feet made contact with Harry’s thigh, Harry lifted them into his lap without even moving his eyes from the screen. Louis sighed a little at the gesture. This was nice. This was beyond nice.

*** *** ***

They were walking in the heath in Hampstead. Louis was sure they were lost but Harry seemed confident enough so he strolled next to him taking in the intense, vibrant greens of the grass and trees. It was peaceful here and they hadn’t seen another person for at least the past thirty minutes. The sunlight filtered through branches bursting with leaves, keeping the worst of the heat away. It left an abundantly warm feeling, the kind that Louis loved. The only sounds were their footsteps and the rustling of foliage whenever the wind stirred.

They’d spent the last week staying up too late, watching terrible television, laughing constantly and too loudly. Harry introduced Louis to new music and Louis introduced him to new films. They burned through hours discussing the merits of the different bands and sounds, movie genres and cinematography, never tiring of the discourse or of listening to the other speak passionately about the things they loved.

They’d spent days exploring corners of London, going to museums and art shows. Louis periodically asked Harry if he’d fallen back in love with London yet and Harry always assured him with a beaming smile that he had. Now they were here, decompressing, letting nature dampen the confining effect that a bustling city can have. As much as he loved the lights and the fast pace, Louis decided that he loved the quiet bits of London the most. It was stimulating and freeing in equal measure. He could see himself here, living and loving every part of it.

Harry’s hands were in his pockets, his head slightly upturned. He seemed to be deep in thought which meant he wasn’t watching where he was going. As usual. Louis kept an eye out for both of them, scanning the path for stray rocks or tree roots that Harry could trip over.

“Lou, do you mind if we stop a minute, I want to write something down.”

Louis didn’t and told him as much. He rested against a tree trunk as Harry pulled his phone out and began to type.

“What are you writing?”

“Song lyrics,” Harry answered after a lengthy pause. He moved to sit crossed legged against a tree and continued to tap away at his phone.

“I figured you as one for leather bound notebooks,” Louis said as he joined Harry on the grass.

“Usually, but this is quite unexpected.” There was a spark in his eyes as he said it.

Louis hummed and fell silent, letting Harry concentrate. He knew that Harry had been blocked for a long time and he couldn’t help but feel a thrill as he watched him. There was a furrow in Harry’s brow and a pretty pout on his lips as he focused. 

Louis stretched on his back in the grass making sure he could still get a good view of Harry’s face from his position. Harry was captivating like this. It was as if the world had floated away and all that was left were the words in his head that he needed to get out.

Louis usually liked having someone’s attention. He thrived under it but this was nice too, just being in the same space even without interacting. Harry exuded a calm that Louis basked in and it quieted his usually hectic mind. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face and wondered if anything could be better than the way he was feeling right then.

When he opened his eyes again a while later, Harry was no longer sitting against the tree. He was curled up on the grass beside Louis, on his side with his head resting on his arm. Louis’ heart skipped as he took him in.

“Haz?” He called him quietly not sure if he was asleep or only resting.

“Hmm?” Harry answered with a small curve of his lips. He was smiling at Louis with his eyes closed and the effect did devastating things to Louis’ insides.

“Dreaming up more songs?” Louis couldn’t resist tucking a stray piece of Harry’s hair behind his ear. It was in a bun but there were always bits of it escaping, tempting Louis, calling to him to run his fingers through it.

Harry moved his head a little into the touch of Louis’ hand as it pulled away causing Louis to make contact with his jawline as he retracted. Immediately he wanted to have his hands on Harry’s face properly. He wanted to map it, to learn it by touch.

“Writing about love is so very tiring.” Harry laughed as he said it, blinking his eyes open to look at Louis.

Louis laughed with him but he could see that there was some truth to what Harry had said.

“Why?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, you immortalise people, feelings, time and place. You kind of break yourself open to get at all those feelings and you put them on paper and you sing them or act them out and it’s there forever.” Harry reached out and brushed a finger against a curl of hair on Louis’ neck. “It’s a time capsule you can’t escape, even if the love itself doesn’t survive.”

Louis closed his eyes as Harry’s fingers made contact with his skin, brushing against his neck.

“Sometimes it does survive though, doesn’t it?”

“Yea … sometimes.”

“I’d like to know what that’s like,” Louis confessed in a hushed tone.

“Me too,” Harry whispered.

Harry wrote about love, he froze the emotions, the feelings in place, gave them a voice and then belted them out for others to hear. Louis wondered what it would be like to be the subject of a song like the kind Harry wrote. What would it say? What would it sound like?

Harry looked at Louis’ hair wrapped around his finger. He looked at Louis lying beside him, eyes closed and face peaceful. Harry wondered for the hundredth time how Louis would feel if he knew. What would he say if he knew he was the reason Harry had found his inspiration again. Right here under yellow sunlight and green filters, Harry had suddenly needed to write again. He needed to capture this experience and lay it out in the way that he understood best. If this was all it was, all it was ever going to be, then Harry had to make sure he captured it perfectly.

*** *** ***

Harry couldn’t help but marvel at how seamlessly Louis had become a part of his physical world. They moved around each other in a coordinated way that he was sure was supposed to take years of practice to perfect.

Louis would tuck himself into Harry’s side while they watched movies or sat outside in the evenings and chatted. He was good at occupying himself too when Harry got the urge to write which was often over the past two weeks. While Harry was busy, Louis would go to the nearest grocers and return with ridiculous items he would challenge Harry to incorporate into a meal. He’d stolen the idea from a cooking competition he’d fallen in love with and tormenting Harry with the weirdest combinations he could find was a true delight for him. The time he’d brought back scotch eggs, sauerkraut and tangerines had been especially memorable.

Whenever Harry got lost in the little world they were building around themselves, something would serve as a reminder that he was in too deep. He overheard Louis one evening, laughing on the phone with Mariella and it confused him. Had they worked things out? Was the break over? Harry was hesitant to ask. He wanted to know but he wanted to stay in the dark too and pretend just a little longer that Louis could actually look at him as more than a friend. 

More than anything, he wanted Louis to be happy and if Mariella made him happy then that could only be a good thing. Harry repeated this belief to himself whenever he felt he was being selfish, wanting more than he should. Even though it stabbed him each time, he knew it was the right thing to do, the right thing to feel even if he couldn’t stop himself from wishing it was different.

But sometimes Harry couldn’t help but think there was something happening between them. Sometimes their skin would brush, sometimes they would reach for each other and Harry would feel it, right there, simmering under the surface. He told himself he was making it up, it was his wishful thinking projecting a reality he wanted to be real. An imagined reality he had to keep to himself.

_We sit in bars and raise our drinks to growing old_  
_Oh I’m in love with you and you will never know_

He worked through these things in his music room, the words and melodies finally coming together to produce songs he was proud of. 

_Pack up and leave everything_  
_Don’t you see what I can bring_  
_Can’t keep this beating heart at bay_

Now that he’d finally started writing again he felt like he would never stop. He had to get every moment, every feeling, every emotion onto paper.

_I will give you all of me_  
_Just leave your lover, leave her for me_

His mind was filled with melodies, and lyrics, and love, and Louis.

Louis who’d just waltzed his way into the room.

“I wanna go out.”

“I’ve been neglecting my hosting duties a bit haven’t I.” Harry looked up from his place on the sofa. He’d just finally sat down.

“Yeah you have, but its alright. I’m glad you’re writing again.”

Louis plopped on the sofa swinging his feet onto Harry’s lap. Harry wrapped his large hands around one delicate ankle rubbing the skin there lightly with his thumb. Louis sighed a bit as he settled into the cushions. Touches like this had become more frequent now, almost expected. They’d somehow managed to settle into a sort of domesticity and Harry was glowing with the warmth of it.

“Thanks again for making dinner last night.”

Louis waved him away. “It was nothing.”

“No, it was definitely _something._ ”

“Oh, now you really have to take me out after what you just said about my cooking.”

“What? I just said it was something.”

“And with that one word you said volumes Harold.”

Harry laughed loudly not even a little sorry. Louis swung his feet to the floor and sat up. He patted his lap, “Come on your turn,” he said, gesturing to Harry’s feet.

Harry rolled his eyes playfully, but did as he was told and settled his feet in Louis’ lap. Louis’ small hands began to rub at his soles and Harry slouched into the cushions, closing his eyes.

“You’re sweet.”

“Ah well, yes I am. Also, you’ve been pacing around all day. They must hurt.”

Louis was right. For some reason, today Harry had to be on his feet. He’d spent the majority of his time walking from room to room with a pen between his teeth and his head in the clouds. He hadn’t written all that much but there were ideas bouncing around in his head and he couldn’t stay still.

Louis hands on him felt amazing.

“You know, I can’t believe that after all this time your feet still haven’t learned how to be feet.”

Harry opened his eyes. “Don’t you start. Gemma still teases me.”

“You’ve fallen over at least four times since I’ve been here.”

It was actually five but Louis didn’t need to know that. “Whatever, keep rubbing.”

“Yes, your highness.” Louis said it with a very unimpressed face but he didn’t stop so Harry didn’t mind.

They discussed potential outings and Harry suggested they meet up with some friends of his from the boy band _Status Solo_. They were a pretty huge deal in the UK and the US and Louis had heard about them, though he wasn’t very familiar with their music. 

Harry told him they were in London on break from their tour and he hadn’t seen them yet. They’d been trying to get him to go to some new club. It’ll be fun, Louis told him, though he wasn’t much for the actual dancing. In agreement, Harry reached for his phone to set up a night and time while Louis took a break from his foot rub duties to turn on the telly and browse the channels. 

They settled into their quiet evening, late summer breeze filtering through the open sliding doors leading to Harry’s small private courtyard. Neither one had any idea that the quiet comfort they’d built was about to implode.


	3. Chapter 3

It started simple enough, with dinner before meeting up with the others. They were in Soho.

“I thought you said we were going to the mexican restaurant.”

“We are.”

“We’re walking past it Haz.”

Harry strode past the clearly marked cafe as if it didn’t exist, waving away Louis’ confusion.

“Just follow me.”

Louis did.

“This is a sex shop. A literal sex shop.” Harry had led them around the corner into an alley.

“Yea it is.”

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

Louis was joking, mostly, so he wasn’t expecting the slightly panicked expression on Harry’s face. His eyes darted about as if he was casting around for an actual answer. Louis wanted to tease him but he couldn’t because by this time they’d actually entered the shop. It was all red neon lights and dark spaces. It felt forbidden and wrong in the best ways.

Louis felt his blood heat as they passed through the shop. He did his best to keep his eyes averted from the shelves, feeling oddly shy when he was usually bold. He was following behind Harry and focusing on the lines of Harry’s broad shoulders and narrow hips was not helping his growing situation.

By the time they began to descend a set of black stairs into the basement, Louis’ breathing was elevated and he could only hope that Harry wouldn’t notice. What the fuck was going on? Were they really going to have dinner underneath a sex shop? Was Harry trying to kill him?

At the end of the stairs was a low lit dinning room about quarter full with other customers. There was an atmosphere to this place. With red painted walls and old film posters. Louis was pretty sure he wasn’t going to survive this ordeal. 

Sitting across from Harry with his long curls and that jawline, watching him open his mouth, tongue first, eating spicy food was going to be torture. 

“Lou are you okay?”

Was that smugness? Was he detecting a hint of it in Harry’s tone? Louis could swear it and it made his eyes narrow. Louis was pretty sure Harry thought he was straight. He was pretty sure he’d been doing a good job of keeping his attraction for Harry at bay. But he also knew that under these dim lights his pupils were blown and he was pretty sure he looked hungry for something other than the mexican food on offer. Louis wanted to drag Harry out of here - grabbing a toy or two from the shelves on their way out - and have Harry push him up against a wall in the alley they’d turned down to get here. 

Could Harry tell? Louis studied him as surreptitiously as he could. He saw tension there. Harry seemed coiled, wound tight. One touch and he would pounce. Louis’ heart hammered in his chest. If he grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him to the loo would he follow? Louis thought he would. God, Harry wanted him. Harry wanted him even though he thought it wasn’t possible. If only he knew.

 _What’s stopping you?_ Louis asked himself. _Nothing. Everything._

“Louis?” The smugness was gone and Harry seemed slightly concerned.

“I’m fine.” He ducked his head, hiding behind his menu so Harry couldn’t see his face.

He’d pushed it. He shouldn’t have taken Louis here. What the fuck had he been thinking? _Yes Harry, let’s take the man you’re in love with who has no idea you’re in love with him, who is also probably straight, to a restaurant in the basement of a sex shop._ He’d gotten too comfortable and it had made him bold. Over the past few weeks, Harry had started to question. Every time Louis teased, every time he touched Harry in that soft way, Harry wondered. Could Louis perhaps be interested?

Was this really his idea of seduction? What kind of person was he? Louis had a girlfriend. Why couldn’t he just be happy he had Louis in his life at all? Why did he have to take it too far? 

It hadn’t been long since they were seated and already Louis seemed withdrawn. He’d basically recoiled, leaning away from Harry, which was something he hadn’t done since they’d reconnected. They always sat just a bit too close, always turned their bodies towards each other, but now it seemed like there was a small gulf between them, one which could prove hard to breach. Harry felt as if their surroundings were mocking him. 

They ate quietly. Harry’s previous excitement at trying the food had completely dissipated. He didn’t really taste anything, only eating because the food was there and it was a good idea to consume it. During dinner he tried to get Louis’ attention, to engage him in the silly banter that they’d become accustomed to but Louis avoided his eyes, avoided his entire face if he was being honest. Louis hid behind his menu, his tacos, whatever he could and Harry felt so incredibly foolish. 

*** *** ***

Harry never really understood the point of meeting in clubs. You could hardly hear what anyone was saying and they were generally stuffy and led to bad, if interesting, decisions. He hadn’t seen Liam, Niall and Zayn in months and would’ve preferred a quiet catch up but they were on break and going as hard at it as they could and he was grateful to see them at all.

He’d been more enthusiastic about coming here because he’d envisioned himself dancing and getting drunk with Louis. He’d thought of little else for the past two days but now that they were standing outside the place, he was pretty sure that none of what he’d dreamt up would come to fruition.

At least Louis seemed to be almost back to his usual self. Harry was grateful for that but he couldn’t help but feel on edge. He still felt like he’d done something he shouldn’t have and it was like walking on ice.

Harry gave their names to the worker outside and they were led around the queue of hopeful club goers to a nondescript side entrance. It took them up to the second level of the club where the exclusive guests were allowed. It had it’s own bar and DJ and its own thick crowd of pulsing bodies. The decor was what Harry would call ‘nightmare circus meets haunted burlesque’ if anyone asked. He wasn’t too sure how long this place would last but the music was good and the lights were dazzling enough to block out their more interesting design choices.

“I feel like they messed up when they passed on the funhouse mirrors,” Louis said into his ear. Harry snickered. 

“Harry!”

“Niall!”

A blonde Irishman barrelled into Harry, hugging him tight. He didn’t give Harry a chance to introduce him to Louis, instead doing all the work himself with a blinding smile. He led them to an enclosed area with couches and chaise lounges in bright colours. There, Harry introduced Louis to Zayn and Liam. Zayn reached a hand around Liam who was reclining on his lap to shake hands with Louis and to wave at Harry. He kept one arm securely around Liam’s waist and most of Liam’s focus was reserved for him.

Louis knew they weren’t just friends from the moment he laid eyes on them. They were a cute couple, criminally handsome and good natured. There was a steady affection to their interactions that Louis found himself envying. Louis’ eyes kept travelling back to the two of them, doing a constant path between Harry and the lovers.

A few rounds of drinks in and they’d lost Niall to the dance floor while Liam had given up his previous position to stretch out on the sofa with his legs draped over Zayn instead.

Zayn seemed to be half asleep despite the thudding beat pouring from the DJ booth. Or at least Harry thought so until he decided to speak.

“Harry, we need to get you back out there mate.” He gestured vaguely to the sea of swaying bodies.

“Leave him alone babe,” Liam shouted from his slouched position. Harry barely heard him.

“We need to get you laid. Get Nick out of your system once and for all.” Zayn carried on as if Liam hadn’t spoken. Perhaps he hadn’t heard him. Liam rolled his eyes managing to look completely smitten in the process.

“Trust me, I’m not thinking about him.” Harry waved his hand dismissing the very idea.

“I don’t believe that.”

“Why not?” Harry was genuinely confused. Nick hadn’t been occupying any space in his mind for quite some time.

“You look a bit love sick mate.” 

Harry groaned. He looked at Louis who clearly couldn’t hear the conversation judging by the way he was scanning the crowd, seemingly oblivious to what was being said. Their legs were pressed together, the only parts of them that touched. It’d been that way since they sat down and if either of them shifted, the other would move to compensate, ensuring that they kept contact. It was an unconscious thing but in that moment Harry could feel the heat of Louis’ skin branding him.

“I’m fine,” Harry said. Zayn really had no idea. No one did.

“If you say so.”

Zayn pretty much let him be after that and Harry was grateful. He loved these guys and intended to try and schedule another, more quiet evening out before they had to head back out on tour but he didn’t want anyone seeing too deeply into what was going on inside his head.

Harry leaned into Louis’ side. “Lou, dance with me.”

Perhaps if they got out on the dance floor and had some fun it would help to ease the tension between them. He was starting to get a buzz from the alcohol and wanted to chase the feeling with Louis beside him.

“Not much of a dancer Haz.”

“Come on Lou. It’ll be fun.”

Louis looked at him then for what felt like the first time in years and Harry could see that he wanted to say yes but he also knew that Louis was about to reject him. 

He was right and it stung a little more than he expected. He felt a flare of frustration spark in his gut. He stood too quickly, feeling the rush of alcohol, making him light-headed. Louis sprang to his feet immediately with a hand to steady him. Harry leaned into it and Louis didn’t move away.

Harry looked over his shoulder and saw that Liam and Zayn had apparently lost what little interest they had in their surroundings and were making the most of the seclusion and comfortable leather chairs. They were all over each other and suddenly Harry had to get away.

“At least come to the bar with me,” Harry pleaded.

Louis took one look at the two men making out right in front of them and nodded in agreement. 

It seemed like a good idea when Harry suggested it and at first it had been. They’d gotten more drinks, letting the alcohol loosen the tension that had settled around them. Louis started to laugh again and even reached a hand out to tuck strands of hair behind Harry’s ears whenever they got too unruly, which was often.

Most of the other patrons left them alone but there were some who were brave or foolish enough to push into the bubble of space they’d created. Each time it happened, Louis’ eyes would flash in a way that would make Harry flush. It didn’t even matter who the person was interested in, Louis would warn them away with a look and sometimes with a touch to Harry’s waist, or a twirl of a lock of Harry’s hair around his finger.

One guy plucked up the courage to ask Harry to dance and Louis practically growled. Harry was ready to combust. Whatever Louis was doing Harry loved it and he hated it in equal measure. Every time Louis got between him and a potential dance partner, a potential hook up, Harry’s insides twisted. He loved it because he could pretend Louis was his and he was Louis’. He could pretend that people could see it written on their faces. It made Harry hot under his skin and filled him with the urge to grab Louis by the waist and attack him with lips and teeth. Harry hated it because none of it was real.

When Louis went to the loo, Harry almost followed him on instinct. He was embarrassingly close to panting just watching Louis walk away with that bouncy, swaying gait of his. Harry finished his drink in one long gulp and ordered another.

“I thought that guy would never stop hanging all over you.”

Harry could only stare. He’d gotten so used to Louis warding everyone off that he almost looked to his side before he remembered that he was alone. Well, not completely. There was a very tall, very handsome man in his personal space.

“You two together?” The man asked.

God help him, he almost lied. A yes on the tip of his tongue so he could continue the fantasy he’d been rolling around his brain for hours. It upset him. He was being pathetic. He couldn’t have Louis but he could have this. He could lose himself in someone, the feel of skin against his, the touch of lips.

“No.”

“Good. I’m Sean.”

“Harry.”

Yes, this was good. Harry repeated it over and over as he let himself be led onto the dance floor. He repeated it as Sean put a hand on his waist and guided him closer. Harry tried his best to chase the feeling he knew he should be having being close to a handsome man like this. This was what Zayn said he needed but he knew better. It really wasn't possible to fuck someone like Louis out of your head, your heart. He couldn’t just dance and grind against someone else and be cured. That kind of thing took time. If nothing else, pretending otherwise would only make it worse and lead to bad decisions. Nick had been a bad enough decision for a lifetime and Harry definitely wasn’t looking for any others. In short, this wasn’t working.

He was just about to apologise to Sean -- he really did seem nice enough -- and go back to Liam and Zayn, when he felt a slight tug from behind. He twisted his body and saw Louis’ eyes blazing as he looked at Sean. Harry wasn’t sure what Sean saw when he looked back but it prompted him to put his hands up and say, “Hey man, he said you guys weren’t together.”

Louis didn’t answer him. He didn’t say anything at all. He positioned himself between Harry and Sean, slowly turning them so that Sean’s view consisted of Harry’s back and Louis’ face over his shoulder. Louis slid his hands down Harry’s back drawing him closer with a smile but the smile wasn’t for him it was for the guy Louis had just stolen Harry away from. It was the smuggest upturn of lips Harry had ever seen and it made something zip through him, sharp and hot.

“Thought-- thought you weren’t much for dancing.”

“I can make exceptions and you Harry, are always an exception.”

Harry trembled and Louis drew him closer, their bodies already in perfect sync to the pulsing beat as if the music was made for them, as if they did this every day and this wasn’t the first time. Harry clutched at him, grabbing fistfuls of Louis’s shirt in his hands. He looked over Louis’ shoulder and saw that his admirer had faded into the crowd. Everything was fading together, one big blur on the edges of his vision.

Louis slid his hands lower, lower, until he was cupping Harry’s arse. He squeezed and pushed him closer. The shock of it almost made Harry disconnect their embrace even though it was the last thing on earth he wanted to do. What he wanted was to return the gesture, to finally feel Louis’ arse under his hands, to grip it, worship it. But how could he? This was already all so much, too much and if he pushed Louis any closer then he’d know. Louis would feel how hard Harry was for him. While Louis was most likely just being a tease, dancing with a friend, for Harry it was so much more.

He worked his courage, swallowing thickly, his throat dry as he let his hands travel the length of Louis’ back. The curve of it was delicious, maddening. Louis’ body was sinful, so compact, hard and soft. Harry wanted to be under him, over him, inside him.

He hesitated too long and Louis turned in his arms before his hands could finish their journey but oh, this was so much better. He couldn’t feel Louis’ arse under his hands like this but he could feel it against his cock. Moving like this with him felt so good through layers of fabric and Harry’s breath stuttered as he imagined what it would feel like without.

Louis had to know. Louis must know what he was doing to him. He must be able to feel what he was doing to him with the way their bodies were pressed together.

Harry was full and hard and practically gasping into Louis neck and still Louis didn’t move away. If anything, he pushed impossibly closer, moving his hips in seductive circles, too slow for the music but just fast enough to drive Harry wild. Louis tugged Harry’s arms around him and let his head fall back against Harry’s shoulder. They turned their heads in unison and their eyes connected. Louis’ translucent blue were dark, lust blown and dangerous. They weren’t the eyes of a tease, they weren’t the eyes of a friend. He looked at Harry like he meant to devour him. Harry moaned, his own eyes slipping shut as Louis pushed back into him again. Louis snaked the back of his hand up Harry’s chest, to his neck and twisted it into his hair, gripping the back of his head as they continued to move.

“Lou,” Harry moaned his name but it was swallowed up in the music and the darkness of the club. Harry needed to know. He saw it in Louis’ eyes but he needed to feel it. His hand drifted lower on Louis’ stomach, his nerves firing, making him almost feel sick with the urge, the adrenaline, the arousal. Louis reached down with his free hand and covered Harry’s larger one. Instead of stopping him like Harry thought he would, Louis guided their hands lower until he was right there, until he could feel how turned on Louis was. It was a ghost of a touch, feather light but it was enough for Louis to buck into him and tighten his grip on Harry’s hair.

Harry wanted to take Louis, right here in the middle of the dance floor. He wanted to push his jeans and pants down, expose that beautiful, round arse of his and fuck into it. He wanted to hear Louis beg for it, wanted to hear him moan and cry. He could almost feel it as he thrusted his length against Louis with more intent than he had before. It was obscene and it was inappropriate and it felt so fucking good.

Harry felt like he was on fire. Louis wanted him. It didn’t make sense but he couldn’t deny it, didn’t want to deny it. Louis was hard for him in the dim light of the club, the beat pulsing around them. Harry ghosted over Louis erection again before pressing his hand more firmly over him. Louis’ fingers gripped at his hand urging him on. The hand in his hair pulled and Harry almost came.

His head fell forward and he moaned right into Louis’ ear. At the sound Louis spun around to face him putting a hand on either side of Harry’s face. They stared intensely at each other as every single person in the room faded into blackness.

Louis was going to kiss him. It was going to happen. The thing he’d dreamed about since he was a teenager was going to happen right now. They leaned forward even more into each other’s space than should be possible. Harry’s eyes slipped closed as he felt the whisper of Louis’ breath on his lips.

“Hey guys we’ve got to head out. Early morning.” Liam was beside them shouting through the music. 

Just like that the spell was broken. Harry wanted to scream. Maybe he and Louis could stay a little longer, or maybe they could go home and continue whatever this was. One look at Louis said that neither of those options were viable. It seemed like he was a million miles away, looking at anything but Harry.

“I’m knackered myself,” Louis said. “Calling it a night sounds good.”

*** *** ***

The ride home was stilted. The city’s lights swooped by the window, blurring together into a meaningless blob of colour and Louis figured it would be better to throw himself into the oncoming traffic. It had to be better than this. He was ready to crawl out of his skin, to scale the sides of the car Harry’s friends had arranged for them. The only thing he wanted, the only thing he craved, was to grab Harry’s face and kiss it. God, he’d almost kissed him. He’d fucked up.

As soon as the door to the flat closed behind them they trudged up the stairs and into their rooms. They’d hardly spoken on the way here. Neither knowing what to say or what to do.

Louis striped out of his clothes not caring where they fell. He’d acted out at the club. He knew that; being jealous and wanting Harry for himself. But Harry had loved it, he could tell, he could feel how much Harry loved it. Louis had felt the heat of him, felt Harry’s hard cock pressed up against his arse and he’d loved it.

Settling naked in the middle of the bed, sitting back, his legs tucked under him, he felt his own hard length. A touch turned into a stroke and he gasped.

His bedroom door barely closed behind him before Harry was pulling his cock free from his jeans. He was still hard, still so turned on. He could still feel Louis’ body against his. His hand burned where it’d been pressed against Louis in the club and he used the same to touch himself.

He took his hand away and got rid of his clothes. He needed to make this good. He fumbled in the bedside drawer until he found the little bottle of lube he always kept there. He coated his fingers and pushed one into himself, muffling his cries as he rocked back onto it. He was wild with it. Louis’ smell was still lingering around him. It was probably his mind playing tricks on him but he didn’t care. He breathed it in and pushed as deep as he could. Harry cried Louis’ name into the pillows. Desperate for more, the alcohol and the arousal ignited in his veins, making him delirious.

Louis didn’t even lock the bedroom door. Harry could walk in here right now and see him on his hands and knees, thighs open, hard, and aching. The thought of it had him leaking pre come, pushing his arse back as if there was someone there to grab at the flesh, to spread him wide. 

With lube covered fingers he teased his rim, pushing one inside himself, twisting his body at the awkward angle, wondering what it would be like to get Harry’s long lean fingers into him as far as they could go.

He thought of reaching for his dildo so he could ride it and pretend it was Harry but he’d left it back in L.A. Frustration bit at his core and he slammed a hand into the headboard, gripping it and gritting his teeth.

They were back on the dance floor, back in the dark twisted circus of the club. But now they were alone and Harry was doing all the things he wanted to do to Louis. He fucked between his arse cheeks revelling in the feel of his cock sliding up and down, catching on Louis’ rim promising more. He threw his head back and jerked himself faster, rolling a bit to his side with the intensity of the sensation.

Louis wanked himself to the thought of Harry’s cock in his arse, to Harry’s fingers in his mouth filling him both ways, giving him something to suck at to keep him quiet. Moaning and whimpering, Louis forgot to censor himself but the image of Harry folding him in half, pushing his knees to his chest and fucking him hard was pushing Louis to the edges of his control. Harry would hover over him with that sinful mouth and that wicked tongue, asking to be kissed, to be licked, to be bitten.

Harry knew there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do do to get his mouth on Louis, to eat him out like he deserved, to make it so good that Louis was ruined for anyone else. He’d give anything to watch Louis straddle and ride him, bouncing on his cock with springy, hypnotic movements. Louis would unravel him with a toss of his head and a bite of his lips and Harry would worship at his altar forever.

Louis wanted to mark Harry. He could see Harry’s skin, red where he’d raked his nails across his back when he’d made it too good and gave Louis no choice. He could see the marks his teeth would leave in places only they would see and Harry would beg him for more and he would give it, as hard and as fast and as uninhibited as Harry craved.

Louis came on a cry that was much too loud, much too carnal. His come spilled out of him, hot. There was more of it then he’d anticipated. He stroked himself through it, determined to prolong the feeling for as long as he could. His head was pounding and there were spots in his vision. If a drunken, desperate wank could feel this good, then what would it be like to have Harry wrapped around him? To wake up next to him and do it again and again. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t want that. His desire for Harry was converging on him and he was buckling under the weight of it.

Harry turned his face into his pillows, babbling Louis’ name like a prayer as he came hard. His whole body jerked with the force of it, ribbons of heat shooting out onto his stomach and chest. He felt completely wrecked. His breathing was wildly out of control and his hair was sticking to his face and neck. Harry knew he was fucked. There was no way he could keep this up. There was no way he could pretend he didn’t want everything with Louis.

*** *** ***

Breakfast the next morning was the most awkward meal Harry had ever experienced. Every clank of the spoon against porcelain grated on his nerves. Harry lost count of how many times he almost jumped out of his skin at any innocuous sound. He had to get himself under control. He flinched when Louis rose from his seat at the table, the chair scraping against the wood. Louis shot him a questioning glance but Harry averted his eyes to the soggy cereal swirling around in the cool milk.

“Do you want to--” 

“Maybe we should--”

They’d spoken at the same time, abruptly cutting themselves and each other off. Harry took a deep breath and tried again.

“I was thinking--”

“I’m not--”

This clearly wasn’t going to get them anywhere at the moment. The atmosphere in the room was too heavy and Harry was thrumming with nervous energy.

“Okay uhm, I think I’m going to go for a run,” he said.

“Sounds good … you … enjoy that. I’m gonna …” 

“Yea …”

What the fuck was that? Harry laced up his trainers in record time even though his hands were shaking. When he came back downstairs he spied Louis standing in the courtyard with his face upturned to the sun. The soft light falling on his hair gave him a glow, a halo that seemed perfectly in place. Harry left without a word.

Don’t fall for your straight friends. Harry had missed the train on that one a long time ago. In fact Louis was the reason that Harry first realised he wasn’t straight himself. 

He thought about the conversation he’d overheard between Gemma and Louis when he was about fourteen. Gemma complaining to Louis about some new guy at their school and all the girls that were in love with him. She didn’t see the appeal. Louis told her that he could. He’d said that if he wasn’t straight himself, he would’ve liked him too, it was just a pity that he was. He’d been laughing, prompting Gemma to do the same and admit that the new kid was indeed pretty attractive.

Louis had said he was straight and Harry’s daydreams had been crushed if only for a moment. But clearly, Louis wasn’t. Perhaps he’d thought he was then or he didn’t want to or feel like he could say otherwise.

Harry’s mind was spinning as he ran. He’d suspected, of course he had. Their quick closeness hadn’t felt platonic for a while now but even so he hadn’t allowed himself to hope, not too much at least. He’d told himself he could be misreading signals, wishful thinking in action but no. 

Sometimes things just happen. The club, the alcohol, the music, the darkness. That’s what Nick said on more than one occasion. Except no, that wasn’t Louis. Then again, how would he know? He hadn’t seen him for ten years. He shook his head. Harry knew. That wasn’t Louis. So how exactly did Mariella fit into his life? Was she a beard? 

Harry’s feet hit the pavement and each impact felt like a blow to his heart.

Maybe Louis just needed to let off some steam and he was the most available body. Harry rejected that thought as sweat poured off him. No. Louis wouldn’t use him that way, he wouldn’t. It had to be more. He so needed it to be more. He couldn’t do casual with Louis, it would shatter him just to try. But god, he knew he would. He would try if Louis asked him to. 

Harry came to a halt, bending over with his hands on his knees, he panted, trying to draw air into his lungs but his whole body was working against him. He hadn’t been pacing himself and he was struggling. His eyes were stinging with sweat and tears. He fell to his knees, putting a hand out on the warm pavement and closed his eyes. He took a few heaving breaths before pulling back to sit on his haunches. His muscles burned and Harry turned his face to the sun. _Please, I really, really like him. I love him. Please, I want this so badly._ He hung his head again and got to his feet feeling silly. 

He turned in the direction of home. Maybe he would get there and Louis would be waiting for him, in the same state that he was. He knew odds were against it but the thought bolstered him back into a jog and propelled him even when his lungs protested. 

The flat was empty. Harry checked every room. Louis wasn’t there.

*** *** ***

Louis stood looking at the vase of sunflowers. He was the only one in the room at the moment. Van Gogh’s work stared back at him. 

He sat on the steps of the National Gallery and looked out on Trafalgar Square. It was littered with people taking photos, walking idly. No one noticed him. He didn’t notice anyone either.

He walked along Jubilee bridge. Couples were taking photos, immortalising moments and he felt untethered, intangible. 

The line for the London Eye was insane. Louis walked past it, keeping his head down. He’d imagined being up there with Harry. Being high above the city, high above everything, was enticing but only if it was the two of them together being tourists in Harry’s favourite city.

He stopped in the middle of Westminster Bridge. He spread his palms flat on the concrete railing and looked out at the water, brown and murky keeping all its secrets. He’d filmed on this bridge. One short scene. His character had been waiting for someone he loved to show up. They’d agreed, so he’d waited and waited and when the credits rolled, he’d still been right there alone, hoping.

 _Tell him_ , the voice in his head said. _Tell him you want him, he would let you, he wants you too_. Louis grit his teeth. It was a bad idea, this whole thing had become a bad idea. It was one thing to acknowledge his attraction to Harry, it was another thing entirely to act on it. He could destroy this new friendship they’d built. He didn’t even care that he would out himself. It wasn’t about that. He could trust Harry, he knew that with certainty. He just didn’t know how to navigate this. This was already a fire, bright and consuming and it seemed like too much. He’d never felt anything like this, never wanted anyone like this and it scared him. This was heavy, so much more than grinding in a club. He couldn’t do casual, not with Harry. Louis knew though that he would try if Harry wanted him to. God, he would do anything that Harry asked him to.

It was there on the bridge that the first tears escaped him. Why was this so hard? This should be the simplest, the easiest thing in the world. Giving in was supposed to be effortless, it offered no resistance. What was keeping him upright? Louis knew he was in danger of doing that thing he sometimes did when he really wanted something but was too afraid, he acted like he didn’t want it at all.

By the time he made it down the steps into the tube station, his face was dry and he was just any other commuter waiting for their train. 

When he got back to the flat, the door to Harry’s music room was closed. He could hear music spilling from the inside. Acoustic, Harry on his guitar. He put a palm flat against the wood and listened. There were no vocals, only the plucking of strings without any real melody. Louis took a deep breath and backed away. He walked up the stairs as quietly as he could and closed himself inside his room.

Harry heard when the front door opened and closed. He waited. Waited for a knock, for Louis to come looking for him like he always did but there was nothing. He put down his guitar and picked up his pen.

*** *** ***

Harry locked himself in his music room for days, writing feverishly, abandoning songs midway through, starting new ones and finishing old ones. He only saw Louis occasionally. They floated past each other. There were touches that never landed, words that never made it past their mouths, aborted movements and schooled expressions.

The things Harry couldn’t say he wrote instead. He wondered what Louis did. Was there even anything he wanted to say? Even if Louis wanted to recite the dictionary Harry would listen. He’d listen to every word, to the way Louis’ mouth moved over consonants and vowels, to the way he broke them and put them back together again without rules. 

Louis made the mundane seem spectacular. He made endless nights of scrabble and bad television seem like the epitome of living. It was in his quiet smiles and his teasing, in his seriousness and his joviality. It was in the way he always had the best advice, the way he always listened. Harry poured his heart out to him the moment they’d reconnected and he hadn’t regretted it. It was his crinkly smile and his delicate wrists and the way he was so small but stood so tall.

Harry looked down at his journal, the pages creased and smudged with ink. He’d written without even thinking of the words.

 _I want you_  
_And nothing comes close_  
_To the way that I need you_  
_I wish I could feel your skin_  
_And I want you_  
_From somewhere within_

The way they were tip toeing around each other broke Harry’s heart. Maybe it was time for him to really put Louis behind him once and for all. Accept his friendship and all the amazing things that would come with that. Schoolboy crushes had to end sometime.

 _It feels like there’s oceans_  
_Between me and you once again_  
_We hide our emotions under the surface_  
_And try to pretend_

The feel of it could fuel his work but he himself needed to move on. He should. He would. Could he? 

_I want you  
And I always will_

Harry dropped his pen. It made no sense to even attempt to fool himself. This wasn’t a schoolboy crush. It never had been. Louis was here now, actually here in his life. He saw him everyday. Touched him, laughed with him, bickered with him and instead of curing that vague longing Harry had carried with him, Louis’ presence only served to show him that he was terminal with it.

Every touch only made Harry want to feel more. Every look made him want to see more. The closer Louis got, the more Harry fell in love. This wasn’t dependent on the feelings of a fifteen year old boy. Harry knew without a doubt that if he’d met Louis in that bar in L.A. for the first time that night he would still be sitting here now so gone for him.

This was so much worse than it had been before he’d seen Louis again. This was too real. To be right at the edge and not be able to fall, to want so badly to give in but having to hold himself upright was taking it’s toll. For one brief moment Harry wondered if it would’ve been better not to have gone to the bar that night.

He threw his pen, watching it hit the wall and bounce to the floor. Never. There was no world in which that would’ve been better. He couldn’t even entertain it and felt his brain a traitor for even thinking it in the first place. He sighed and retrieved the writing utensil.

 _You know I’d rather drown_  
_Than to go on without you_  
_And you're pulling me down_

Without even meaning to, Louis was causing him to live an aquatic life. Always so close to drowning and praying to god that he would. Louis had a hold on him and all Harry wanted was to never be untethered again. He wanted to surrender to the depths of what was happening between them. He wanted Louis to ask him to. Tears were staining his writing, smudging the lyrics on the page. Harry pushed his hair back and looked at the words.

_I want you  
And I always will_

He laid his head on his desk and let his tears pool on the hardwood.

_It feels like there’s oceans  
Between you and me_

*** *** ***

“Are you going to call me every time someone puts a photo of me on the internet? Seems exhausting for the both of us mate.”

“This isn’t funny Louis.”

“It never is Ryan. It never is.”

“There are breakup rumours and this doesn’t help.”

Louis was standing in Harry’s courtyard. His intention had been to have a cup of tea and then try and talk to Harry because he was slowly going insane with the weight of the things on his chest. Instead what he had was cold tea in one hand and his phone in the other.

Louis was exhausted. He really was. It had only been a few days but it felt like infinite lifetimes looping over and over. 

So far he’d gotten away with minimal communication with anyone in his team about Mariella and the state of their relationship. Playing the uncooperative, sensitive actor had been working a charm. He’d also not been spotted too much around London. He’d stopped for a few pictures here and there over the last few weeks and signed a couple autographs but there hadn’t been any major buzz. His fans who paid close attention definitely knew he was in London but in general no one was paying him any mind. He wasn’t currently working or promoting any projects so his profile wasn’t as high as it could be. He was well known but not so much that he couldn’t go outside and do what he wanted within reason. 

However, it seemed that his little pilgrimage from Trafalgar to Westminster had been documented surreptitiously by a couple of people. One in particular was of him on the tube after his walk across the bridge. He hardly recognised himself in the photo so he wasn’t sure how anyone else had. He was slouched in his seat, head back against the window looking like he’d lost everything he’d ever loved. Perhaps Louis was being overly dramatic in his mental description but by the way Ryan was talking, Louis figured he wouldn’t think so.

The stalemate between him and Mari meant there hadn’t been any interaction between them for about a month and questions were being asked. Was the loved up couple who’d just celebrated four years together in trouble? It didn’t help that Mariella was instagraming her way across Western Europe seemingly solo. Louis would message her about her adventures but he was careful not to like or comment on any of her public posts. From the outside perspective it really did seem like trouble in paradise. Louis meanwhile was more than happy to see Mariella smiling so brightly, even if he himself had forgotten what that was like.

Ryan was talking again, Louis figured he should try to listen. “… Mariella is in Europe somewhere, last I heard Rome, let’s schedule some photos, some social media interaction. This stalemate has to stop.”

“Is she ready to negotiate?”

“Not that I’ve heard.”

Thank god. “Then neither am I.” 

He ended the call shortly after and sat under the awning, shading himself from the sun. He set his now unwanted tea beside him. He had a headache, a persistent one. Louis rubbed at his temple as he scrolled through his phone looking at all the photos he and Harry had taken so far. 

_Harry laughing, his hair wild, blowing about his head as he sat crossed legged on the grass, an ice cream cone in his hand._

_The two of them, heads tilted together, squinting against the afternoon sun._

_An upended scrabble board after a word dispute that refused to resolve itself, neither one willing to back down until Harry tickled him into submission._

_Louis with flour in his hair from the one time he thought making pancakes from scratch would be a good idea._

_Harry’s horrified reaction to the first of Louis’ dinner challenges._

_Harry’s gleeful expression when Louis realised he’d played himself and would have to eat whatever Harry managed to concoct._

_Louis when Harry caught him trying to hide the marmite under a potted plant outside. He’d since rectified the challenge so that Harry had to buy them dinner if what he managed to make was too awful to consume._

_Harry stretched out on the sofa, long limbs splayed with a glass of wine in one hand and his phone in the other, yelling at something on the screen._

_Louis plucking on the strings of Harry’s favourite guitar. Their first lesson after Harry’s promise to teach him how to play._

Louis teared up as he scrolled through them all. One after the other they were memories made and fixed in place, perfectly preserved and theirs forever. They fit. Scrolling through the countless snapshots it looked to Louis like he’d always been there, like he was meant to be there.

It hadn’t even occurred to him to leave. Even with how things were now he didn’t think to pack up his stuff and give Harry his space back. L.A. seemed so incredibly far away now, so empty. Would Harry prefer if he left? Was he being selfish?

He didn’t know how to talk about everything else but he could at least find that out. Then again, Harry was so kind that he would probably tell him to stay regardless. Louis was contemplating this when he heard Harry’s voice drifting towards him through the open doors.

“Yea, sound check at 3 pm sounds good. No I think I’ll just wear some of my own clothes … yea. See you tomorrow. Bye.”

Louis stared into the milky, opaque surface of his tea. Harry’s performance. He’d been so inside his own head that he’d completely forgotten. He felt even worse. He was supposed to be there for Harry, to support him, be his friend, not wallow in fear and frustration and whatever else he was penning up inside himself.

Louis pushed himself up from his seat and walked to the doorway. He stood in the threshold and observed Harry for a moment. Harry seemed as exhausted as he was and Louis felt guilty for that.

“Hey,” he said lamely.

Harry spun wildly, clearly taken off guard. He almost collided with the sofa and Louis wouldn’t have forgiven himself if Harry had tripped and fallen over again.

“Louis … you scared me.” He had a hand to his chest right over his heart and Louis’ skipped.

“Sorry. Uhm, just wanted to know what time I needed to be ready for tomorrow.” Louis folded his arms over his chest as he leaned on the door jamb. He didn’t know what else to do.

“Oh … uhm … I didn’t know if you were still wanting to go.”

And the way he said it made Louis’ heart crack. “Of course Haz--” the crack became a break when he saw the uncertainty on Harry face, “--there’s no way I’d miss the chance to see you perform … if-- if you still want me there.”

Harry looked up sharply from where he’d been studying the floor. “Of course I do.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“Okay.” There was a small smile playing at Harry’s lips and Louis wanted to walk up to him and stretch it with his fingers until it was the right size and brightness that it should be.

They didn’t talk much the rest of the day but the silence wasn’t as heavy as it had been. The next afternoon, Louis tried his best to give Harry his space while still letting him know he was there for him. He stayed in the background through the sound checking and the voice warming, makeup and outfit selection. Harry had brought a few pieces from home not sure what he wanted to wear. He asked Louis’ opinion and without any hesitation Louis pointed at a pink cotton shirt with white polka dots. Harry rolled his eyes on a smile but selected it anyway. 

Louis waited just outside while Harry got changed. Louis didn’t want to make it awkward for him when things were only now finding a balance. Harry called him in when he was done and Louis pushed into the room, eager to see the finished look.

Louis saw him and almost cried. He looked at Harry with his hair, long and flowing, so full and bouncing on his shoulders. Louis looked at his pink polka dot shirt, at the rolled up sleeves and the open buttons that trailed down his chest. He looked at the skinny jeans, black and sinfully tight with holes in the knees and the shiny leather boots and tears threatened to spring. Harry was so beautifully stunning, so fucking perfect and Louis wanted to pull him into his arms and hold him there forever.

The initial heat of the attraction he’d felt for Harry, that intense burn, hadn’t left him, it had only grown but Louis wanted to break down because it had twisted itself together with something so much more indelible. Right in that moment in the small, stuffy dressing room Louis knew without a doubt that he would always want Harry. He’d found something permanent by running away. He’d found the ultimate thing and he’d be damned if he fucked it up. He wouldn’t let himself.

Louis stepped forward, clearing the breach that had opened between them and slotted his fingers with Harry’s. He felt Harry’s lean digits curl around his after a quivering hesitation and Louis pulled him in. He wrapped his arms around Harry, tight and secure.

“You’ve got this, right?” Louis asked even though he knew Harry did.

“Yea … Yea I do.”

Harry sighed and laid his head on Louis’ shoulder. Doing so meant he had to bend in an uncomfortable way but he didn’t care. Harry didn’t know what was happening and he dared not question it. Whatever this was he would take it. To be held by louis like this before going on stage to perform wasn’t something that he’d ever imagined.

Harry clung to him, feeling every bit of the weight that had settled on his shoulders since the night at the club lift more and more with every second they stayed connected. He closed his eyes and breathed in Louis’ scent. If this was the only time this ever happened he wanted to remember every bit of it. He wanted to be able to weave together the threads of it from memory, perfect and intact.

“Harry, you’re, on.”

Harry reluctantly disentangled himself from Louis’ embrace, laughing a little as he did to cover the depth of emotion he was feeling. He turned to the doorway, nodding to let the stage hand letting her know he’d heard. He was almost through the door when he spun on his heels and ducked back into Louis’ arms for one last hug. Louis’ laugh was bright like tinkling glass and Harry squeezed him, lifting his feet slightly off the ground in the process. Louis tried to protest, demanding that he be be put back on solid ground but he was laughing too much for it to have any bite.

Harry set him back on his feet and they smiled at each other, private and fond for one long moment before he finally left to get up on stage.

Louis lost himself in Harry’s music. He wrapped himself in the words and the vulnerability that Harry displayed on stage. Harry was magnetic. He pulled the whole crowd towards him and didn’t let them go until it was over. It was a simple set, acoustic, just him and his guitar and it would go down as one of Louis’ favourite musical experiences.

With each song he saw a new side of Harry, felt like he learned a little more. The album was amazing but Harry live was something that Louis felt everyone should see. Harry was going to be a success on a global scale. Louis could feel it and he was so incredibly proud of him and grateful that he had the opportunity to know the person that Harry was.

He sang Something Great and Louis was back in Harry’s bedroom listening to his halting voice. Louis felt tears prickling at his eyes and the only thing he could think was _I’m here_ as if Harry was singing to him. He knew it was silly but he couldn’t help it. He would tell him. As soon as they got home Louis would tell him how he felt. He didn’t want to hold on to this any longer. They both deserved good things.

_You’re all I want  
So much it’s hurting_

Louis sang the very last words along with the crowd, along with Harry and Harry noticed. They smiled at each other briefly while the crowd cheered. 

That was the first time Harry had ever smiled after finishing that song. Harry didn’t know what was changing but for the first time in a long time he felt anchored. Every time Harry looked into the crowd he saw Louis singing along, waving his arms and dancing. It made Harry’s heart skip. Louis was here for him. Louis was here.

After the event was over, Louis hung back while Harry met with some of his fans and took photos. Some people still recognised him despite his best efforts and he did end up taking some photos himself. At one point a young girl had to ask him for a retake after she’d snapped the photo and realised he hadn’t even been looking. He and Harry’s eyes had connected across the room and he couldn’t look away if he tried. The girl had followed his line of sight and asked him if he knew Harry Styles and Louis told her that Harry Styles was one of his favourite people. She’d loved that. Louis shrugged. It was only the truth.

“We can set you up some more writing sessions.”

Harry looked at Paul. He’d just escaped the crowds and was weaving his way backstage with Paul at his side as he looked for Louis so they could get home. Paul was one of his label heads and he had a soft spot for Harry. He expressed his concern about the second album in more of a paternal way than any businessman probably should. 

“No, not yet. I’m writing again Paul--” Harry grabbed his arm and looked at him earnestly, “--It’s flowing and I’m so pleased with what I’m getting so far.”

Paul looked at him for a moment before a relieved smile lit up his face. “I trust you Harry,” he said and Harry knew he meant it. Thank god he meant it.

“Thank you.”

He found Louis and introduced him to Paul and then to a few other people before asking him if he was ready to go. Louis was. He seemed almost impatient and Harry quirked a brow at him, silently asking him what was going on. Louis shook his head, assuring him that everything was fine. 

As soon as they walked inside the flat, Louis headed to the kitchen, his perfect legs speeding along the hardwood. Harry followed him a bit warily. The last few days had been a roller coaster and he was still on a bit of a high from singing earlier. He couldn’t help but feel anxious.

Louis was pulling cups from the cupboard, the kettle already on.

“Lou?”

“Tea?”

Harry didn’t know what else to do so he accepted. Louis nodded his head and turned back to peruse Harry’s collection of teabags. Harry saw that Louis’ hands were noticeably shaking and he swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. What was happening?

“Louis?” Harry asked softly, his voice betraying his nerves.

Louis spun to face him just as the kettle clicked off. The room was deathly silent for one long moment before Louis took a deep breath and spoke,

“You-- I-- Harry--”

Harry’s eyes were already filling with tears and he didn’t even know why. There was something about Louis’ voice.

Louis closed some of space between them and looked into his eyes. 

“I’m so, so glad that I walked into that bar that night and saw you. I didn’t know that I needed you but I did. I do. This past month has been one of the best of my life only because I spent it doing nothing and everything with you. And tonight. Tonight you were up there with your guitar, tits out--” He poked at one and Harry yelped, a grin spreading on his face, “--and you were just the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I don’t just mean your face, although it’s a great face but I mean everything about you.”

“Lou--”

“I like you Harry and I want to be my complete self with you.”

Harry bit his tongue and waited, he didn’t even breathe.

“I’m gay. Completely, spectacularly gay and single and I … I like you. I want to take you out … like on a date. Would you … go on a date with me?”

Harry opened his mouth but nothing came out. He closed it and tried again and all the while Louis was looking at him, waiting, his eyes shining suspiciously bright under the kitchen lights. Harry extended an unsteady hand and ran his fingers delicately across the side of Louis’ face, feeling the roughness of his beard and the smoothness of the skin underneath.

Louis huffed a tiny laugh, more a small breath than anything and put a hand up to encircle Harry’s wrist, keeping his hand in place. He drew closer.

“Can I kiss you Hazza?”

Harry closed his eyes and nodded yes. He waited -- the space of two heartbeats -- before he felt Louis’ lips press against his. Louis dropped his hand from Harry’s wrist, wrapping both of his hands around Harry’s waist instead. Harry let his other hand come up to caress the other side of Louis’ face and their lips moved together.

It was tentative, quiet and soft. All the pent up lust, the want, was buried under the weight of what this meant for the both of them. As first kisses went Louis didn’t know they could be like this. He didn’t know they could crack walls he didn’t even know he had. He didn’t know they could mould those walls back together leaving a space in the shape of another person, another person that now had access where no one else did.

Harry parted Louis lips with his own, tasting Louis for the first time. He knew he could fill novels with only this. He could write albums about this kiss. It was everything he’d ever wanted, it was more than he’d ever imagined. Reality often paled to his imagination but not this. Never this.

Louis pulled back to look up at him, there were tears clinging to his lashes and Harry had never seen anyone more beautiful than him.

“So … yes to the date?”

Harry laughed and pulled him in, wrapping his arms around him marvelling that this was something he could do.

“A thousand yeses to the date. A thousand million yeses. A hundred thou--”

Louis rolled his eyes and cut him off with another kiss.

Later that night, Harry wrapped himself up in his duvet. Rolling around his bed, he kicked his long legs in triumph and squealed into his pillows. Louis liked him. He could hardly believe it. Harry had never thought this day would actually come. He’d never really believed it possible. 

He flopped onto his back and sighed. Louis was attracted to him, he wanted him. Harry had known that for certain after their night in the club but this, a date … an actual date with Louis and the most tender first kiss he’d ever received. That kiss. How could he ever kiss someone else after that? The grin on his face threatened to take over the entire room and he put his hands up to cover it, to block out everything but what he was feeling inside. He was bursting. He wanted to yell, to scream, to laugh, to cry.

Harry rolled himself over again and hugged his pillow close. He had to sleep. If he slept now then tomorrow night would come faster and it would be time for their date. His first date with Louis.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry looked at himself in the mirror. Louis was waiting for him downstairs but he wanted to make sure he looked his best. He fussed with his hair for a bit, arranging it how he wanted. The top half was pulled back in a ponytail with the other half down just past his shoulders. A good portion of his closet was scattered on his bed but he’d managed to choose a black button up with a white teardrop pattern to go with his usual black skinnies and leather boots.

Finally satisfied with his hair, he latched a delicate gold chain around his neck and slipped a couple rings onto his fingers. He was jittery, legs bouncing with no idea what to do with his hands. He’d been looking forward to tonight all day, practically floating around the flat giving Louis shy smiles.

Harry made an attempt to clear his rejected outfit selections away but aborted his efforts in less than a minute. It didn’t really matter anyway and Louis was waiting. Except when Harry came downstairs calling Louis’ name there was no answer. Harry checked the kitchen and the dining area and the living room and the courtyard. Nothing. He bounded back up the stairs and saw that Louis’ room was empty. Despite himself he panicked a little. What if he’d made it all up in his head? What if something had happened to Louis?

Harry walked back down the stairs trying to get at his phone so he could text Louis. He’d just managed to unlock the screen when there was a knock on the front door.

Distracted, Harry pulled the door open, head down still looking at his phone. After a bit of silence he looked up and came face to face with an enormous bouquet of flowers. There was a distinctly Louis shaped hand around the stems and Harry stumbled backwards into the flat lost for words.

Louis lowered the bouquet and graced Harry with one of his softest smiles. Harry could feel his heart melting.

“Lou…”

“Can I come in?”

“Yea-- yes.” Harry wanted to tell him how silly he was being but he was too busy blushing and making grabby hand gestures at the flowers in Louis’ hands. This was all too much.

“These are for you … of course.” Louis handed over the overflowing arrangement filled with peonies and roses and hollyhocks. 

“Lou, thank you, this is … you are …” Harry practically danced his way into the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers. No one had ever done anything like this for him. It was the kind of thing he would remember for the rest of his life; the time he and Louis went on their first date and Louis brought him the hugest bouquet of flowers he’d ever seen. Grandchildren were going to hear about this.

“You look amazing Haz.” Louis had sneaked up behind him and put his arms around his waist, hugging him close.

“Thanks, you too.” 

And Louis really did. He’d shaved and the effect made him look almost eighteen again. His hair was pushed up off his forehead in a stylish quiff and he was in a dark red button up that hugged every sinful curve. The rich colour against the pale hues of the flowers was one of the most stunning images Harry had ever seen.

“Ready to go?” Louis asked after kissing his neck lightly.

“Yea.”

Louis was taking him to dinner and Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. They’d gone out to eat a few times before but this was markedly different.

Louis kept a hold on Harry’s hand the whole way there, his fingers lightly tracing Harry’s longer ones. The simple gesture went a long way in putting Harry at ease. This was Louis. This was everything he wanted.

Louis took them to the Shard. The ninety five storey building towered above them, making them feel so incredibly small in its shadow. Neither of them had ever been inside it and it pleased Louis greatly that they would get to experience it together.

Harry was looking at him with eyes like twinkling stars and Louis vowed to always do what he could to keep them lit the way they were right now. The higher they climbed, the wider Harry’s smile grew and it was infectious. They were practically giggling by the time they made it to the fifty second floor.

“Literally, how?” Harry’s eyes were wide as he looked around him, most of his gaze was focused outside rather than in. They were seated next to huge glass windows. London stretched endlessly below them, the lights going forever.

Louis smiled. The view was spectacular and Harry was so pleased, his face was lit brighter than the city below them.

“James,” he said. 

Even though he was pretty successful there was still no way Louis Tomlinson could get a last minute reservation for this restaurant but James Cordon definitely could. He’d called him that morning and told him about Harry and he could’ve sworn James had cried a little. James really was a sap.

“I wanted to be above the city with you, for some reason I wanted to hover over everything and since we can’t actually fly, there’s this.”

“I love London so much but I’ve never seen it like this.”

Their table was nestled in the corner giving them a measure of privacy and they made the most of it, talking in quiet tones over some of the best food they’d had in ages.

“I’m sorry about the night at the club” Louis said around bites of truffle flatbread. “Not sorry it happened but sorry for how I acted afterwards. That must have been really confusing for you.”

“It was, but I’m guessing it wasn’t all that simple for you either.” Harry snagged a piece of pancetta from Louis’ plate completely at ease. 

“It wasn’t,” Louis agreed. 

It had been a rough few days after that night out but it already seemed so distant and it couldn’t penetrate the bliss Harry was feeling now. Actually it’d been a stepping stone to where they were at that moment so he couldn’t feel too harshly about it even if he tried.

They ate quietly for a moment. Louis was eyeing the hummus on Harry’s flatbread and planning his attack when Harry asked him about Mari. Louis suspected it was only a matter of time before he did. He and Mari were friends and he really did love her. He’d been lucky in that regard. They’d decided to beard for each other informally long before any contracts had come into play and Louis knew from the experiences of others how much more difficult a forced bearding situation could be. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

“PR relationships must be so much easier for straight artists.” 

Louis snorted his agreement. He didn’t tell Harry that Mari herself was bisexual. She wasn’t out, so Louis knew it wasn’t his place to tell. For now he let Harry think she was just being a good friend. Harry didn’t pry, perhaps sensing that it was best not to.

“A bit of mutual PR is a whole other world from hiding away a part of yourself,” Louis said.

“I can’t imagine what that must be like.”

“It’s a complicated thing and I’m sure it’s different for everyone but for me it’s been this odd conflict. Sometimes I feel guilty like I’m lying somehow, sometimes angry that I have to lie, sometimes finding myself wanting to lie and not knowing how to place that.”

They quieted as plates of Salmon and Lamb were brought to their table. The scent of the food wafted up around them. It was tantalising but Harry was far more interested in what Louis was saying.

When they were alone again, Louis continued. “The thing is, I’m not ashamed of who I am and I certainly don’t feel like there’s anything wrong with me but for me in my experience not being out and being somewhat in the public eye can get to be a bit much.”

“Have you ever wanted to come out?” Harry asked.

“For a long while I never really felt the urge, honestly. lately I’ve been restless, feeling confined.” Louis speared some green beans with his fork not really paying attention, too lost in his thoughts. “It happened so fast for me. I didn’t fully realise I was gay until I was already well into the series I was filming. I was new in the city, missing home and it scared me a little. My agent and management at the time made it seem so matter of fact, it just wasn’t an option. I think the only person I’ve ever really wanted to tell before you is my mum.”

Harry remembered Louis’ mum as this very funny, loving, bright person. Louis had always been close to her growing up. Harry had assumed if anyone knew it would be her.

“Why haven’t you told her?” Harry asked spearing some of Louis’ green beans.

Louis took a moment to compose his thoughts before speaking. “You know when there’s something you need to say but you don’t and you tell yourself you’ll say it tomorrow, then the day after and then the day after that. And everyday it gets bigger, until too much time passes and it’s too much, too big to get your mouth around, so it stays lodged there in your chest--” Louis put a hand to his heart rubbing it as if soothing a physical ache. “--and you just cannot get it out because … you waited too long…” 

Louis laughed self-consciously breaking the tension and Harry felt himself breathe again. While Louis was talking it’d been as if he’d forgotten how to. Harry knew how it felt to hold something, keep something inside himself for a really long time but not exactly in that way. 

“You still can you know?” Harry reached a hand out and entwined their fingers on the table top. Louis smiled a little watching the way they fit together.

“It’s the only thing I wish was different. The rest--” Louis waved a hand, “--I don’t feel like I owe that to anyone. I can be proud of who I am and not be out. I know this on an intellectual level but still sometimes there’s this little niggle that says I caved to pressure from my team, that I wasn’t brave enough.” Louis’ voice softened at the end and there was a touch of uncertainty there that made Harry tighten his grip.

“You’re the bravest Louis, don’t ever say or think otherwise. These things are not black and white, they’re never laid out before us plain to see. I’m out and I don’t think I was braver than you, perhaps luckier in that I had people telling me it was okay, that I could be myself and make the music I want. I doubt there was much of that when you were eighteen just starting in L.A.”

“There really wasn’t.” Besides James it really had been a largely isolating experience. He would always be grateful for people like James, Mariella and Shayla.

“Okay babe, give me the rest of your mash or I swear to god I will fight you. It’s so good.”

Harry laughed. He put his hands up in surrender letting Louis take all he wanted then snagged the rest of Louis’ green beans as revenge. Louis didn’t seem bothered.

“You just called me babe.” Harry waggled his eyebrows at Louis.

“Whatever, it was for the mash.” 

Harry laughed and watched as Louis closed his eyes around a bite. He contemplated his next words for a second before he spoke.

“I auditioned to be in Status Solo.”

“What?” Louis’ eyes popped open.

“Yea, I went through three auditions but they went with someone else.”

Louis regarded him, squinting his eyes a little, trying to place him with the three guys he’d met. He could see it, could see Harry happily prancing about a huge stage with his bandmates. 

“I cried so damn much when I didn’t get in. I wanted it so badly and I thought I would never get another chance. I felt like a failure. God, my mum couldn’t get me to come out of my room for days.” Harry laughed at the memory. “I told her I was going to take up baking and drown myself in flour and sugar.”

“Random but very you.” Louis laughed, imagining Harry’s dramatics, feeling a little sorry that he wasn’t there to see Harry through it.

“They chose Liam instead of me.”

Louis thought back to the club and to the way Liam and Zayn had been so wrapped up in each others arms, to the way they treated the other like they were the most precious thing. Louis’ heart broke a little.

“They’re so in love,” Harry said. “Liam’s just about ready to give up everything but he can’t. I watch them struggle with it and fight against it in the only way they can, with the messages they try to send and the songs they write and while I admire them so much I can’t help but think, that could’ve been me.”

Louis looked up at Harry and saw that his eyes were shining. The light in them was immense, almost blinding. 

“What I’m trying to say is, it’s not about bravery and who has it and who doesn’t. There is no right or wrong. There’s just you and your truth and your expression of it no matter what that is. The fact that these are even things we have to think about, to struggle against, is enough to tell us it’s the world that’s broken not us. We shouldn’t have to be brave Louis, we should just be able to be. Just be.”

Louis reached out and reconnected their hands. Harry got it. Of course he did. He was right there with Louis and Louis felt tethered. Sitting in London’s tallest building, he felt anchored to the person next to him in a way that made him feel so completely safe and free. He could float above the lights, the buildings, the clouds, but he would never be in danger of being lost. All he had to do was point his compass towards home and it would lead him right back to Harry, right back to solid ground.

Their conversation was definitely heavier than the typical first date fare but there was nothing typical about this and they both knew it. They were okay being vulnerable with each other. They had been from the moment Harry had laid out his fears and hurt in L.A. from the moment they’d found each other again after a decade.

They twisted their feet together under the table as they talked and ate letting time stretch out before them, unhurried. 

“Please say you’re up for dessert.”

Louis quirked a brow, “Have you met me Harold?”

“Okay, I deserved that.”

Harry ordered vanilla cheesecake and Louis, a chocolate brownie sundae. From the moment they were served, Louis knew he was in trouble. Harry cut into the soft desert and for Louis the journey to his mouth happened in slow motion. That damned tongue peeked out and Louis sub-consciously mimicked the action, eyes glued to Harry’s lips as they parted to accept the treat into his mouth. Right before it made contact, Harry stopped, fork suspended in front of him.

“Lou, are you okay?”

Louis barely recovered enough to look Harry in the eyes. It was clear he’d been caught. There was no use pretending but he wouldn’t do down without teasing.

He cleared his throat. “I can’t believe you still do that thing with your tongue.” 

“What thing?” Harry asked with mock confusion. He kept eye contact with Louis as he stuck his tongue out and curved it upwards to lick along the bottom edge of his top lip. “That thing?” he asked innocently before finally taking a bite of the cheesecake.

“God you’re trying to kill me,” Louis groaned. He was seconds away from legitimately fanning himself. He’d adverted his eyes to save himself and had expected a cheeky retort from Harry. What he didn’t expect was for Harry to look like he was genuinely about to burst into tears.

“Harry what’s wrong?” Louis asked, concern lacing his tone.

“It’s-- I just-- this cake.”

“What the fuck?”

“I’m having a moment here Lou, a genuine moment.” Harry’s eyes were closed and his face looked positively rapturous. 

“Oh god, I do not know you.” Louis reached for a bite, determined to show Harry how ridiculous he was being. “Fuck me that’s good,” he groaned as the taste of it exploded on his tongue.

“I know,” Harry whined. “It’s only Vanilla cheesecake. It has no right.”

Louis’ perfectly adequate sundae was abandoned in favour of sharing Harry’s dessert. They devoured it while trying to keep their moans of approval and pleasure to an acceptable level. 

Maybe cheesecake was an aphrodisiac. Louis had no idea. He knew that Harry certainly was and he had to have him home immediately. Harry saw the look in his eyes and with a suggestive touch of his hand on Louis’ thigh under the table, showed him that they were on the same page. 

As soon as the front door closed behind them, Louis pushed Harry against the wall and kissed him. He’d wanted to do that for hours. By the way they were devouring each other Louis thought it was safe to say their first date was a success. They were desperately pawing at clothes and skin, not paying any attention to anything else but each other.

Harry pulled away just enough to look into Louis’ eyes. What he saw there gave him the last bit of courage he needed.

“I wrote it about you. Uhm, Something Great … it’s-- it’s about you.” The words spilled from him, halting but sure, a confession.

Louis’ eyes bored into his.

“I’ve wanted to tell you that for ten years.” Harry caressed Louis’ face with feather light touches. “Ten years.”

Louis closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

Harry’s voice trembled. “I-- I started writing it when I was fifteen--” Louis laid his head against Harry’s chest and held him close. “--It almost didn’t make it to the album but the label fucking insisted I add it because there was something so raw and vulnerable about it. They didn’t know. No one knew.”

Louis’ breaths were coming in deep shuddering rasps, his fists knotting in the fabric of Harry’s shirt. He didn’t know what to do, what to feel, what to say. He’d been so sure that there wasn’t anyone out there like this for him and all this time Harry had been hoping and longing for him. All this time and he’d never known. How could this be real?

Harry leaned back and pressed their foreheads together.

“The songs I wrote then are about you.” Harry kissed him.

“The songs I’m writing now are about you.” He kissed him again.

“They’re all about you.”

“Harry…” Louis whispered his name, sweetly and with a reverence that Harry had never heard before.

“Let me make love to you Lou. Please let me make love to you.”

“Yes,” Louis said on an exhale, quiet but sure.

“Lou…”

“Fuck, I want you so much. The way you smell, the way you feel, Your hands. I want your hands all over me. Put your hands on me Harry.”

Harry whimpered. Pressed against the wall at the foot of the stairs he ran his hands up Louis’ arms slowly, savouring the intimacy of it. Both of their shirts were lying somewhere scattered in the darkness and Louis’ skin was on fire. He ran his fingertips to his neck and along his jawline and Louis gasped. Harry reversed the motion and swept down until he connected with the tips of Louis’ fingers. He entwined them in his larger ones, swallowing deeply at the sight. It sent Harry’s whole world spinning. This was happening.

Wordlessly Louis turned and led Harry up the stairs. He passed his room and went to Harry’s. He unfastened Harry’s jeans, pulled the zipper down slowly and pushed them and his pants down his legs. Harry stepped out of them, eyes half closed, and disrobed Louis with the same slow movements.

They pushed the clothes Harry had left on his bed to the floor and settled naked on it. Harry sat up and pulled Louis towards him. Louis turned and settled between Harry’s legs with his back pressed against Harry’s chest. He leaned his head back against Harry’s shoulder giving him full access to kiss and lick at the exposed skin. Harry made the most of it, sucking bruises into Louis’ neck as he ran his hands down his chest. When he rubbed at Louis’ nipples, Louis began to writhe against him, his hands gripping hard at Harry’s calves. Harry teased him more with his teeth and his fingers, groaning at the feel of Louis rubbing against his cock. He could feel himself leaking pre come between them as Louis’ movements became more wild, his whimpers becoming moans.

“Harry… please…”

“Shh, let me feel you,” Harry whispered into his ear.

He was going to put everything he had into this. He was going to make sure that Louis knew just how precious he was.

Louis’ stilled almost immediately. He went lax, resting against Harry, as Harry’s hands continued to slide up and down his body leaving trails of fire and want wherever they touched.

Harry wanted this to be slow. He wanted to savour it, to have every moment branded on him forever so he’d never forget. Harry touched Louis everywhere, kissed him in all the places he could reach. He marked him from his neck to his chest to his inner thighs. He laid Louis on the bed and ran his hands over his calves, his ankles, kissed the backs of his knees. Louis stayed pliant and so responsive to his every touch. By the time Harry reached for the lube and a condom, he’d mapped every inch of Louis’ body, had mesmerised each different sound that fell from Louis’ lips.

He laid kisses on the round cheeks of Louis’ arse. “I’ll be good for you Louis,” he promised.

“You already are, it’s already so good Haz, so …” Louis’ words trailed off into a moan as Harry pushed a finger slowly inside him.

Harry worked him until he was begging for more. Harry would give it to him. He would give Louis anything he wanted, but even this, just this was enough. He licked his lips as he watched his finger disappear inside Louis over and over again, barely able to hold himself together. He added another and Louis pushed back to get more. Louis wanted more, more of _him_. Harry felt dizzy.

How many nights had he touched himself thinking of just this. How many nights had he imagined these sounds. The raspy, high pitched keening for him, because of him.

He added another, closing his eyes to just feel it for a moment. Louis was gasping, making these little sounds that were driving Harry crazy. Louis was practically fucking his fingers, rocking back on them with quick, wild movements.

“I’m ready. Please, I need you.”

“On your back love. I want to see you.” The words came out scratchy, and deep. Harry pressed gently on the swell of Louis arse as he collapsed, helping him to turn over on the plush sheets.

Louis’ was so damn beautiful like this. His mouth slightly open taking air into his lungs in panting breaths, his eyebrows knitted, his eyes so dark. He had one arm splayed above his head and the other lightly stroking his thick cock. There were beads of pre come at the tip and Harry couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and licked at it, tasting Louis on his tongue. Louis bit his lip and threw his head back.

He bent his legs at the knees, planting his feet on the mattress, thighs spread, silently beckoning for Harry, his cock full and hard. He was so open, so unabashed as he moved his hand from his cock up to his chest and rubbed at his nipples. 

Harry was frozen. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. If he did this, If they did this, he could never go back. How could he ever go back?

“Hey, hey, Haz.”

Harry looked up and connected his eyes with Louis’.

“It’s okay, it’s me and you. I want this. I’ve never wanted anything more than this. I want your kisses, and your cock.” He laughed a little breaking the tension that had been settling over them.

Harry huffed a laugh too, finally able to move again.

“I want to sleep next to you and hold you. I want the hard things and the soft things. I want you.” Louis reached a hand out and Harry met him halfway, kneeling between Louis’ legs, they just held hands for a moment, grounding themselves. Harry felt his limbs unlocking, felt the waves of need washing over him again.

“You ready?” Louis asked.

“Yea.”

“Okay, okay.”

Harry entered him slowly. Inch by inch he pushed forward, savouring the sounds falling from Louis’ lips. When he pushed all the way in, he stopped for moment. The feel of Louis wrapped tight and hot around him was making him delirious. Louis was raking his nails down his back urging him on and Harry moved. He pulled out almost to the tip and pushed back in with one long stroke. He sucked air into his lungs through clenched teeth and moved in Louis again and again. On the next, Louis’ hips rolled to meet his and they found a maddening rhythm.

“Oh fuck, there Harry.”

It took him a few thrusts but he found it again and Louis cried out, his grip intensifying, fingers digging into the flesh of Harry’s back. Louis was strong and his grip was bruising and oh god, Harry loved it. It revved him up and he thrusted harder, faster, brushing against Louis’s spot over and over.

“Oh God, don’t stop, faster, Harry, fuck…”

With those words, any thoughts of taking his time evaporated. His bed that he’d always considered to be pretty damn stable was creaking and rocking in ways it never had before. They were drenched in sweat and Harry felt invincible. He could do this forever, he wanted to do this forever. He wanted to feel every inch of Louis from the inside out, wanted to hear him crying his name, whimpering, tears falling on his skin. He wanted it hard and fast, soft and slow. He wanted Louis to come until he couldn’t anymore.

He reached his arm out and braced his hand against the headboard, holding some of his weight as he increased his pace, giving it to Louis just the way he wanted it. The change gave Louis enough space to get a hand around his cock and he threw his head back into the pillows as he jerked himself. His cries were loud as Harry fucked into him, his eyes screwed shut, mouth open and it was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen.

“Fuck Lou, come on baby.” Harry spurred him on, mesmerised by the motion of Louis working himself.

“Harry …”

Louis spilled between them, jets of come shooting up and covering both of their stomachs. Harry closed his eyes, overcome by the sight, by Louis’ moans. His movements became erratic and with a couple more thrusts he came loudly, crying Louis’ name, feeling the shock of it rippling through his entire body.

He made quick work of disposing the condom and then collapsed on Louis, letting his full weight press them together. Louis wrapped his arms around Harry tight, keeping him in place. They breathed each others air, neither willing to let go.

*** *** *** 

“Haz?”

“Mmm?”

“I think we’ve fused. My come has stuck us together. It may be permanent, like the worst kind of conjoined twins.”

“Ugh, you’re gross.” Harry groaned, rolling off of Louis. There were indeed streaks of Louis’ drying come on both their stomachs and Harry had to close his eyes for a brief moment to come to terms with exactly what that meant.

“Shower.” Louis was poking him in his side but Harry didn’t need much convincing. He followed Louis easily to the en-suite, still in a daze over what they’d done.

They held each other under the warm spray, lazy hands spreading soap and suds over each other’s bodies. Louis turned his back to Harry and made little sounds of pleasure as Harry massaged shampoo through his hair. Harry did it with reverence, marvelling at this new level of intimacy between them. It was so much different than the sex they’d had a little while ago but it was just as good. As he turned Louis around to wash the lather out of his hair, Harry felt validated. He felt a quiet assurance that holding on to Louis in his heart for so long had been the right thing to do. He’d berated himself so often over the years, calling his crush silly but look what it had gotten him.

The love and the pain and the wanting had coiled together to help him write the kind of music that impressed the right people. He was sure he would’ve still wrote, still sang but it wouldn’t have been the same songs and he didn’t want any others, he wanted the ones that had come from his muse.

Louis sighed, wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, and rested his head against his shoulder. Harry’s arms curled around Louis’ back and he tucked his face into his neck.

They pulled apart slightly to look at each other for one brief moment before Louis reached up and kissed Harry. He used his lips to open Harry’s own and went about exploring every inch of his mouth. They kissed until their fingertips were pruned from the water, until their lips were swollen and red. They disconnected with a smile and Louis shooed Harry back to bed while he went downstairs to the kitchen to make them tea.

Hours later they were still awake, cuddled together, naked limbs tangled as if they needed to savour every single second, too afraid to miss even the smallest thing.

*** *** ***

In the early morning light, Harry woke Louis with gentle kisses, covering his face and each eyelid. Louis woke with a smile on his face, capturing Harry’s face for a proper snog.

“I want you inside me again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yea, just go slow.”

Harry did. They were caught in a beam of sunlight peaking through the curtains. It laid across them, warming them as they moved. Through low moans and soft whimpers they held each other. Louis’ legs wrapped around Harry’s waist and Harry’s face buried in Louis’ neck. They paused for kisses, the deep kind, the lazy kind where time was not a factor. It was so quiet there in Harry’s room and nothing could touch them.

As Harry came inside Louis, he found himself transformed. He’d lived through the crush, cried through his first love, knew what it felt like to want something so completely and have it be so unrequited. But now, he was full because he knew what it felt like to imagine and then to have. To no longer feel like he was waiting for something intangible with no specific descriptors, too abstract to accurately describe so he put it in songs and belted them out to audiences, begging them to see what he saw; to love the boy with the blue eyes the way he did. He was in love with the man lying underneath him. He’d always been, but now, now he really knew what that felt like, what that meant. Harry wanted to stay in that glow for the rest of his life. He wanted to live it, to breathe it, to write about it, to have a testament of it that would last long beyond either one of their lives.

Louis came between them with the prettiest cry Harry had ever heard. Harry pulled out of him missing it immediately and rolled them over so that Louis was lying on his chest. 

Clear, endless blue eyes looked into his and Louis smiled a warm, bashful smile that shattered Harry’s heart and put it back together in a way that would only ever make sense to Louis. That smile was the map, the key to it, and no one else would ever understand the shape of it.

“Are we being reckless Haz?”

“Yes.” Harry released a shuddering breath because yes they were. Louis’ body rose and fell with it and he closed his eyes. There was always a wild quality to giving in to emotions as immense as these.

“Your heart,” he said, placing a hand on Harry’s chest where the organ was beating rapidly, getting used to its new shape.

“You did that.”

Louis looked at him again. “This is definitely a big deal … god Harry, what is this?”

“Us.” 

It couldn’t get anymore vague but Harry wasn’t capable of more verbal communication at the moment. The worlds were still shifting behind his eyes. Louis nodded though as if he understood completely and rested his head down, moving his arms to hold Harry as much as he could.

*** *** ***

They were lazing at home. There was no other word for it. They were draped over the living room sofa, morning sunlight warming their bodies. It had been like this for the past couple days. They had hardly spoken to anyone, hadn’t left the flat. It was rounds of love making, and eating, tv watching, music, and cuddling.

Louis twirled a long piece of Harry’s hair around his fingers. Harry hummed, leaning into it.

“I know I said I wanted to go all over the city but this is so nice, hanging out with you like this. I could do this forever.” Louis stretched as he said it dislodging Harry from his perfectly comfortable position.

“Aww Lou, why’d you move?” He shifted around trying to recapture the optimum cuddling position. 

“Sorry, love.”

Harry pulled Louis’ hand from his hair and kissed it. “You’re always on the move love, you sure you’re not bored?”

“What can I say, I’ve mellowed in my old age.”

“At the ripe old age of twenty seven.”

“It’s been a long and adventurous life.”

Harry laughed at him as he pushed himself up to grab his phone from the coffee table. He held it up above them and snapped a photo.

“Perfection from Tomlinson as usual,” Louis said as he watched Harry applying filters.

“I can’t even argue, it’s too true.”

“Well, you don’t even have a bad angle.”

“As if you do.”

“True,” Louis acquiesced, earning him an elbow to his side.

“Hey,” Louis said in mock offence, “I was only agreeing.”

To get back at him, Louis snatched the phone from his hands. Harry held his now empty hands up in front of his face for a moment before sighing and nestling back into Louis.

“You’re such a thorn in my side,” Harry said as he wrapped Louis’ arm around him and traced patterns on his skin.

Louis ignored him, logging into his twitter account. 

“Harry look at this, we’ve got fans.”

“Are you seriously checking your twitter mentions?”

“As if you don’t.”

“Okay fine.”

Harry took his phone back from Louis to see what Louis was trying to show him. It was a photo of Louis and a fan from the charity event he’d performed at. The fan, a lovely young woman was gushing sweetly about unexpectedly getting to meet both her favourite actor and favourite musician on the same day and how kind Louis had been to her. It made Harry smile. He loved when people loved his people. Apparently she’d asked Louis if he and Harry were friends and Harry’s heart melted at Louis’ reported response.

“Did you really say I’m one of your favourite people?” He twisted his neck so he could look back and up at Louis’ face.

“Yea,” Louis said with an affectionate smile.

Harry put the phone back on the coffee table and turned so he could kiss Louis thoroughly. Louis melted into it.

“Your one of my favourite people too.” Harry said it against Louis lips and Louis smiled into their kiss.

A little while later, Louis was dozing from the same place on the sofa while Harry disappeared into the kitchen to assess their food situation. He’d decided at some point that he wanted to make pizzas for dinner.

“Babe? I know how you said you never want to move again, but do you think you’ve got room for one more adventure?”

Louis cracked one eye open to see Harry hovering above him with a hand out to pull him up. 

Apparently, getting ingredients for their dinner meant a wander around a market rather than a quick stop at the closest grocers.

Instead of a bustling, sprawling market like Borough, Harry took them to a much smaller, almost intimate space tucked away from the larger, more crowded options. They moved about the stalls, Harry insisting on smelling every fragrant tea and trying every sample offered.

By the way Harry greeted and talked to some of the vendors Louis could tell that he came here often. They were on a first name basis with him, not because of his music but because he was a good customer. Louis could see that they adored him. Louis understood the appeal, he was right there with them.

Harry cooed over cheeses, spices and organic produce. Louis trailed along beside him happily, breathing in the air scented with good food. He could feel the passion that the people here had for their wares and it permeated his skin. He itched to connect his fingers with Harry’s to walk hand in hand through the stalls but he refrained. Instead he nudged him with his arm causing Harry to smile down at him, closed lipped and fond, his dimples showing. Louis never got tired of those dimples, never got enough of those gentle smiles.

“Harry love, if we get any more stuff we’re gonna need a lorry.” Louis nudged him with his elbow, both of his hands occupied with bags.

“Sorry,” Harry said shaking his head at himself, “I alway’s get carried away. Can’t help it.”

“I get it,” Louis said as Harry accepted another purchase.

“Okay, okay I’m done now, promise.”

“I’ll believe it when we’re far far away and not a second before,” Louis teased him.

True to his word Harry headed away from the stalls even if he did throw a forlorn glance or two in the direction of some loose leaf herbal tea with fragrant mango pieces. Louis rolled his eyes at him and dropped the bags he was carrying next to Harry so he could jog back towards the vendor and buy it for him.

Harry was smiling so wide when Louis came back with the tea and a little sample size of another, that Louis almost kissed him right there. Instead he shook his head at him and turned away slightly to hide his affection. Harry laughed a little, almost a giggle and Louis turned back to see him scrunching his nose up in that cute way he had.

“Stop it Styles with your face,” Louis said as he picked the bags back up and they continued their exit.

“What? You can’t do things like that and not expect my face to do things back.”

Louis laughed loud, eyes sparking more than should be possible. Harry wanted to kiss him. 

They were so busy looking at each other that they didn’t notice the shy presence of a young woman hovering in front of them. She cleared her throat a little.

“Hi,” she said timidly.

Louis and Harry turned their heads at the same time, startled out of their bubble.

“Hi,” they said in unison.

“I-- I’m so sorry to bother you guys really. I don’t want a picture or anything but I just wanted to tell you both how much you mean to me.”

They both regarded her kindly. She seemed nice and had waited until they were away from the bustle of the market so as not to draw attention to them. They appreciated that and encouraged her to continue with small smiles.

She blushed under their attention but took a deep breath and continued, “Your music, it’s helped me so much, the way you sing and the words you sing, saying its okay to be who you are and to love who you want, it’s gotten me through some really tough things.” Her lip trembled a bit as she spoke and Harry was touched by her words. 

People like her were a big part of why he loved doing what he did, just to know that his heart, his experiences could help someone else, whether it was enjoyment of the melodies, relating with the words or any other way that they engaged with his art. He thanked her sincerely.

She turned to Louis, “You’re my favourite actor and I love all your stuff--” Louis was ready to thank her but she continued, “--but _Blue Hydrangea_ changed my life. The sweetness of it, the normalcy of it, was something that I needed to see. I had no idea it could be like that and you played such a huge part in showing me that it could.”

Louis was a bit lost for words. He’d known that _Blue Hydrangea_ was a film he had to make and every single time someone said something like that to him, it made him emotional, it reinforced that he’d made the right choice.

“Thank you love. Thank you so much and I’m so happy that it helped you, that means a lot to me.” Louis put his bags down and Harry did the same.

“What’s your name love?” Louis asked.

“Carla,” she said, seemingly surprised that he’d asked.

“Thank you Carla,” Harry said and she blushed, ducking her head a little.

“I’m so happy you guys know each other. I don’t even know why.” She was positively gushing by this point, overwhelmed and Louis was endeared.

“Okay, bring it in for a group hug,” Louis said.

Harry smiled at him and they both put their arms around Carla, pulling her in. The tears that had been gathering in her eyes started to fall then.

“Oh no, no crying. You’re almost as bad as Harry here.”

“Hey, I’m an emotional person,” Harry said with mock offence. 

Louis rolled his eyes as they stepped back. Carla’s were darting between the two of them, back and forth, mouth slightly open. 

“You two … I can’t … I cannot…” she said, trailing off with a shake of her head.

With one more hug, she walked away, leaving Louis and Harry looking at each other with equally goofy smiles.

“You think she’s on to us?”

“Nah,” Louis said with a flick of his wrist.

They looked at each other again and laughed.

“Let’s go home,” Louis said.

“If you check your mentions again tonight I am disowning you Lou.”

“Whatever.”

*** *** ***

Louis was standing in the kitchen with his arms folded over his chest. Harry was standing right in front of him, doing his best to hold himself to his full height.

“No,” Louis said.

“Yes.”

“If you put lettuce on that pizza Harold I swear to god--”

“It’s arugula.”

Louis walked past him, bent forward at the waist and gently rested his forehead on the cool countertop. He groaned, arms dangling comically. 

“I give up,” he declared.

Harry rolled his eyes at Louis’ theatrics. “Okay, fine no arugula but I want one with acacia honey and figs.”

Louis straightened up but only so he could turn around, lean against the counter and put his head in his hands.

“I’m so going to call Pizza Hut.”

“I’ll throw your phone in the bin.”

“Great, maybe I’ll find something to eat for dinner while I’m retrieving it.”

Despite himself Harry laughed. 

“You’re the one who like’s bringing weird stuff for me to make dinner with,” he said when he’d recovered.

“Yea but this is pizza babe, this is sacred.”

In the end, they compromised and laid out dough for three small pizzas. Harry would get his honey and figs with mozzarella and prosciutto and they would use the salami they got earlier that day on another. Number three was completely up to Louis. He could be adventurous he thought as he eyed a jar of olives.

“Haz, do you want olives on your pizza?” He asked reaching for them.

“Olives … olive … I live …”

“What?” Louis turned to see Harry wandering out of the kitchen.

“Harry?”

There was no answer.

“I guess I’ll put them on half just in case,” he muttered to himself, struggling to get the lid off the jar.

He’d just put their creations into the oven when Harry floated back into the room. He looked a little spacey, his head somewhere in the clouds.

“Where’d you run off to love?” Louis asked as he wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist.

“Song idea, didn’t want to forget it.” Harry smiled down at him.

“A song … inspired by olives?”

“Yes Louis.”

“Are you okay?” Louis reached a hand up to Harry’s forehead to asses his temperature.

Harry pulled it away with a roll of his eyes. “The way you said it with your accent it kind of sounded like _I live_ and then it started to bounce around in my head, _I live for you, I long for you Olivia_. You know, Olivia like _I luv yuh_ because I do.” Harry was nodding his head along to an invisible beat. “ _I’ve been idolising the light in your eyes, Olivia_.”

“You have got to stop writing songs about me Harold.” Louis tapped Harry’s chest lightly, ducking his head to hide his blush.

“It’s not about you _Lewis_ , it’s about Olives.”

“Wait, did you say you love me?”

Harry held him tighter. “I’ve been in love with you since I was thirteen or have you not been paying attention.”

“Hush, did you just say you love me?” Louis pulled away slightly to look him in the eyes.

Harry flushed. “Yes? I know its soon, too soon but the song, the words were just there and--”

Harry was cut off by Louis’ lips connecting with his.

“Olivia,” Louis said.

Harry coloured a bright red.

“You did not just squeal,” Louis pulled away and levelled him with a look of disbelief.

“You said you love me,” Harry said as a defence.

“No, I said Olivia.”

“You said it again!” Harry was bouncing on his feet.

Louis grinned at him, pulling him close again. “I love you Harry.”

“Olivia? Who’s she?”

“I hate you Harry,” Louis said even as he snuggled closer.

They carried their pizzas to the living room and ate sprawled out on the floor. Louis begrudgingly accepted that the honey, fig and Prosciutto pizza wasn’t half as bad as he’d been expecting.

Harry worked through his new song as he ate, bouncing ideas off of Louis who was only too happy to be a part of the process.

“It’s so summery. You’ve definitely got one uptempo tune sorted.”

“You think so?” Harry was pleased to hear that. His label had asked him to incorporate some more uptempo tracks into the new album.

“Yea the way the words are just rolling off your tongue is beautiful,” Louis assured him.

“Thanks Lou, it’s just a rough start, like I have no idea what the verses will be but I want the sounds to be big, trumpets everywhere.” Harry spread his hands wide and Louis agreed.

Louis was half asleep later that night when he felt Harry’s long fingers poking at his side. 

“Lou, Lou?”

“Mmm?” 

“You really think they’ll let me have trumpets?”

“Of course they will babe.”


	5. Chapter 5

“I want to tell my mum.”

Harry looked up from his cereal. He’d been absentmindedly swirling the contents around with a dopey smile on his face, too happy to eat.

“Okay. That’s great Lou.” Harry beamed at him before briefly looking back to his cereal. When he looked up again Louis was standing with a look of expectation on his face.

“You mean right now?”

“Yea, why not?”

“Road trip?”

“It’s not even a half day of driving Haz.”

“Road trip?”

“Road trip.” Louis rolled his eyes fondly.

“Yes! Pack a few days worth of clothes for us and I’ll get snacks and make up some playlists.”

Louis left Harry moving around the kitchen opening cupboards and pulling out tupperware and made his way upstairs to pack. He headed to Harry’s room and reached up on his tiptoes to grab one of Harry’s duffel bags from the top shelf of his closet. He put random stuff in, just anything comfortable that he thought Harry would like. He made quick work of it, excited at the prospect of getting on the road. It only took him a few seconds of contemplation before he took Harry’s bag to his own room and added his clothes in with Harry’s. Thankfully Harry had done a few loads of laundry the other day or else Louis wouldn’t have had anything clean to pack.

He stood back and looked at the contents of the bag. His and Harry’s clothes were a disorganised pile. He knew Harry wouldn’t expect anything less so he wasn’t bothered by it. Instead, Louis was so incredibly happy. He had no idea where Harry’s stuff ended and his began and it was one of the best things he’d ever seen.

Before he could close the zipper and head downstairs, long arms wound their way around his waist and pulled him back into a solid chest. Louis covered Harry’s hands with his and they swayed gently to the rhythm of their heartbeats. 

Harry peered over his shoulder. “Well, that is exactly what I expected,” he said, jutting his chin to indicate the chaos in front of them.

Louis sighed and rubbed his head against Harry’s shoulder. Harry laughed a little, dropping a light kiss on Louis’ neck.

“I’m ready to go if you are babe.”

“But now I’m all comfortable and snug.”

Harry kissed him again, disentangled their hands and unexpectedly pushed him forward. “Now you’re not.”

“For that, you carry the bag.”

“Fair,” Harry acquiesced as he closed it up and settled it on his shoulder.

Downstairs, he handed their luggage back to Louis so he could gather their food and drinks.

“What’s all this then?” Louis asked, peeking over Harry’s shoulder.

“Travel mugs of tea, nuts, fresh fruit. I also have crisps and candy because you’re hopeless--”

“Oi, who ate a sharing bag of salt and vinegar crisps in one go? Hint, it was you.”

“--and sandwiches,” Harry finished, as if Louis hadn’t spoken. “Also they were onion and _balsamic_ vinegar.”

“Disgusting.”

Harry insisted on driving so that Louis could relax on the way. Louis told him over and over again that he was fine but Harry could see that he was anxious. From what he remembered of Louis’ mother Jay, he knew that everything would be okay but he also understood that Louis’ nervousness was the natural and expected reaction. It was a big thing he was about to do and Harry was grateful that Louis wanted him there.

Louis had free reign of the playlists Harry had curated, admitting that there were some solid road tunes in the mix. It was a lot of old rock with some wanderlust inducing indie tunes. There was only one thing missing, Harry. Louis was outraged that there were no songs from Harry’s album in the mix and rectified it immediately. No matter his protests Louis knew Harry was secretly pleased. Louis told him that if he had to choose one album to listen to for the rest of his life it would be Harry’s. Harry didn’t believe him. Louis was telling the absolute truth.

Arriving in their old neighbourhood felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket filled with nostalgia. Being back here together made Harry feel like a teenager again and made Louis see those years in a different light. 

He’d called his mother from the road and she was delighted at the surprised visit. Louis could only hope she still would be after their conversation.

“Lou!” She pulled him in for a long hug as soon as he and Harry stepped onto the porch. They hadn’t even had a chance to knock. She must’ve been waiting right inside for them to pull into the driveway.

Hugging her made him feel safe, like he used to when he was little, before he went away to pursue his acting dreams. He clung to her, arms tight and eyes closed for a brief moment just losing himself in the kind of comfort that only his mum could provide.

She broke the hug and looked at him closely, searching his face. She smiled warmly but said nothing. Jay turned to Harry and pulled him in too, pressing him close and cooing over his long hair and his height. Harry blushed slightly over all the attention and Louis couldn’t help but think how perfectly he fitted. Harry just seemed to be the right size and shape for every aspect of Louis’ life.

Walking inside Harry took in his surroundings. Louis’ parents’ home was beautiful. It was bright and cheery and so clearly lived in. He felt safe just being here. This wasn’t the same house he’d visited as a kid with Gemma but Louis’ family had grown since then adding a set of twins to the four siblings Louis already had. Harry had never met Louis’ youngest siblings but from the way Louis talked about them he was sure they were the most adorable kids on the planet.

“Loulou!” There was a blur of motion as two bodies barrelled down the hallway heading right for Louis.

“Careful with the running loves,” Jay admonished. They slowed down immediately but still made good time as they converged on Louis who’d crouched and opened his arms for the impending attack.

He was knocked off balance with the force of their impact and he fell backwards as the two six year olds clung to him. Their mother tutted at them but the fondness on her face gave her away immediately.

“We’re doing art Loulou come see.” They scrambled to their feet and were already in the process of pulling Louis towards their play room when Jay stopped them and introduced them to Harry. It was clear they hadn’t even noticed him but he was quickly invited to their playroom as well.

Jay went to make tea while the kids, Doris and Ernie, showed Louis what they’d been working on. Louis praised them in the way that only a big brother could and they shone under his words of encouragement. Harry was impressed too, there was some serious artistic talent on the pages they were proudly displaying.

“Hey guys, I’m going to talk to mum for a bit and then I’ll come back and look at the rest of your art. Is that okay?” Louis said to them after he’d properly examined most of their offerings.

A chorus of okays and yeses filtered up to them and Louis bent to drop kisses on each head of bouncy curls.

“I’ll just hang with these little guys for a bit,” Harry said to the twins. “If that’s alright with you,” he added crouching down to their level. Simultaneous enthusiastic nods told him he’d been readily accepted into their circle and he beamed as they pushed some of their art supplies closer to him so he could join in.

As he left the room Louis threw a last fortifying glance at Harry who blew him a kiss and gave him a thumbs up. Louis took a breath and made his way through the doorway.

*** *** ***

“So you knew Harry had a crush on me?” Louis was incredulous. This conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t expected.

“I saw the way he pined after you,” Jay said taking a sip of her tea.

Louis had been nervous up until he’d actually sat across the kitchen table from her with a cup of tea in front of him. It had hit him then, this was his mum. Suddenly, the lump in his throat that had kept him silent all this time melted away. Just like that it was gone and he’d almost cried from the relief of it. He got the words out, a little wavering but sure and Jay smiled at her son, reaching her hand out to hold his. That wasn’t enough so she got up and opened her arms for him again, hugged him tight and thanked him for telling her.

Louis tried to apologise for taking as long as he had but his mum wouldn’t let him. She wouldn’t even entertain the idea of him being sorry.

“You’re my baby, my first and I love you unconditionally. This is a part of who you are and who you are is absolutely perfect to me. Your my precious boy Louis and I’m so proud of you.” 

She’d said the words with tears in her eyes and it reminded Louis of when he was little and how attached he’d been to her, going everywhere she did, wanting to be just like her. She said she was proud of him often and Louis never tired of hearing it. He loved both his parents but he’d always been closest to his mum. Now that she knew, he felt okay and confident with telling the rest of his family.

He would do that later. For now, he was sitting with his mum talking about one of his favourite topics, Harry.

“It could’ve been so different,” Louis mused. Would he have seen Harry differently if he’d known about the crush Harry had on him in school?

“Maybe, but then it wouldn’t be what it is now,” Jay said, finishing the last her tea.

She was right. Of course she was. Louis couldn’t imagine it being any different than it was. He set his empty cup down and took a deep breath, rubbing his thighs to dispel the tension in his body from the heavy emotions he’d just churned through.

“Let’s go check on him, the twins can be a handful,” Jay said.

Louis nodded and followed her from the kitchen back to the playroom. It was so quiet that Louis was automatically suspicious. His youngest siblings were always on the move like he’d been at their age, getting into things and exploring. 

He came to a stop just behind his mum who was standing in the doorway with a hand to her chest and an endearing tilt to her head. Harry and the twins were completely engrossed in their art. Doris was quietly listening to colour suggestions for a portrait she was working on. Harry was holding up five different choices for her perusal as he sat crossed legged on the carpet.

They seemed oblivious to their audience until Jay walked into the room proper. Louis followed and Ernie grabbed his hand in his much smaller one to show him what they’d been working on.

Louis reached his free hand out and picked up the drawing. He looked over the top of the page towards Harry who shrugged with a little smile and said, “It was a Doris and Ernie collaboration, they insisted.”

The drawing was of him and Harry. Harry’s long hair was distinct along with the shaggy fringe Louis was currently sporting.

“It’s you and Harry,” Doris told her older brother. “We like Harry, he’s nice, so you two should stay friends forever.”

“We will,” Louis promised her through a smile so wide it almost hurt to keep on his face for too long. He couldn’t help it though. 

He sat next to Harry and opened his arms for his brother and sister who readily jumped into them. Louis thanked them with bear hugs and kisses and promised to keep their gift on display at home. It didn’t occur to him when the words left his mouth that he meant Harry’s flat and not his house in L.A.

Harry stood, shaking his long limbs out a little. Jay walked over to him and took his hand. She looked into his eyes for a moment and Harry tried his best to look back, to be as open as she needed him to be.

“Be good to each other,” Jay said eventually, pulling him into a hug so maternal Harry eyes threatened to fill. He clung to her briefly, letting her sway them a little as she rubbed his back.

Louis and Harry stayed for a while longer, chatting with Jay and playing with the twins before leaving. Louis would be back later but he was going with Harry to see his older sister Gemma. He’d called her while Louis was having a little kick about with the twins in the back garden.

“That was Gemma. She’s at home.” Harry had said, coming out through the open french doors, phone still in his hands.

“Does she know I’m here with you?” 

“Yea, she was surprised but she wants us to come over.”

Louis nodded, feeling a little nervous. He really had no reason to be but it’d been such a long time since he’d seen his best friend from secondary school. So much had happened, catching up seemed daunting.

Gemma’s flat was about a fifteen minute drive from Louis’ parents’ house and Louis spent most of it talking with Harry about the things he and Gemma had gotten up to in school. He asked Harry if Gemma had ever said anything to him about why they’d stopped being friends.

Harry shook his head no. “I just figured she was upset you were moving away and you just grew apart. She didn’t really talk about you much after you left.” 

Louis hummed. That was very close to the truth. Harry looked at him then, probably hoping he would elaborate but Louis didn’t. Instead, he changed the topic and watched the other cars whiz by as they drove.

Louis stuffed his hands in his pockets while they waited for Gemma to answer the door. He didn’t know what else to do with them. The nervous energy was back and he was practically bouncing on his feet. Harry pushed the sunglasses he’d been wearing up onto his head and looked at him wondering why he was more fidgety than usual. He didn’t get a chance to ask though as Gemma opened the door. She greeted Harry with a hug and a jab to the shoulder that hurt way more than he would ever let on.

“You went ghost on me baby brother. Not cool,” she chided. Harry apologised and he meant it but he couldn’t help sticking his tongue out at her too. She rolled her eyes and turned to Louis. Her smile then was a bit rueful. Louis removed his hands from their confinement and held both of hers.

“Lou, I’ve missed you,” she said, voice wavering.

“Oh love, I’ve missed you too,” Louis gathered her into his arms then and rocked them. Harry looked at the two of them and couldn’t help but feel like something was slotting into place that had been off kilter, even if he had no idea what.

Gemma beckoned them into the flat. There were still unpacked boxes lining the walls in the living room and she apologised for it being such a mess. She’d just moved and the place was new to Harry. Without being prompted he wandered about taking in the airy, light space. If he knew anything about his sister, by the time she was done there would be bright splashes of colour everywhere.

He turned to compliment her on the flat and almost collided with her hand. She was holding it up right in front of his face and for a moment Harry was confused, until his blurry vision focused and he saw the pretty diamond ring.

“Oh my god Gemma!” He hugged her again, holding her tight as they both squealed. “When did this happen?”

“Last night,” she shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but she couldn’t hold it. “He asked over dinner, it was so romantic.” She turned to Louis so he could get a good look as well and they shared a private smile that Harry couldn’t place.

He was too excited to give it much thought anyway and asked Gemma for all the details of the proposal. She sat them down and told them both everything and the way her face glowed throughout melted Harry’s heart. His big sister deserved all the good things and he was so happy that she was that much in love. He knew the feeling. Gemma and her now fiance John may have been together for five years but Harry was already pretty confident in who he’d be spending the rest of his life with.

Harry cleared his throat and did his brotherly duty by declaring that John would have to answer to him if he ever hurt his favourite sister.

“I’m your only sister,” Gemma said, rolling her eyes even as she leaned into him.

“Get in line Harry, he’ll have to deal with me too,” Louis said from her other side.

Gemma looked at Louis and they were both silent for a moment. She turned back to Harry. “Haz, I need to talk to Lou for a little bit, go, wander, explore.” She waved him away with a smile and Harry left them alone with more than a few curious glances.

When he was gone, Gemma turned to fully face Louis on the sofa they were occupying. 

“Okay, I had no idea you two were spending time together before today.” 

“It wasn’t planned. We randomly ended up in the same place at the same time back in L.A.”

“Yea, Harry gave me a quick rundown about you spending the summer with him.”

“Gemma--”

“Lou, I’m so sorry.”

“Gems--”

“No, I am. I was young and ridiculous and it was just a crush.”

Louis remembered Gemma’s tearful confession of her feelings. It had been just a week or so before he left and it had thrown him completely. He’d already been questioning his sexuality at this point, wondering just what it is he felt for girls and for boys. Gemma had been his constant companion though so regardless of his confusion he had been pretty sure that to him she was like a sister. She hadn’t taken it well, thinking that he just wanted to forget her and everyone else for his shiny new life far away. He remembered fighting tears when she didn’t come to see him off.

“I think I reacted so badly because you were leaving and I was afraid of losing you. If you weren’t about to go I probably would never have said a word. Instead, I messed up and I still ended up losing you by walking away first.”

“It’s okay Gemma, honestly it is. It was so long ago.”

“I know, but I was supposed to support you and I let my feelings get in the way and I cut you out. I regret that so much. You should’ve been able to rely on me.”

“You know in the beginning there were times when things would happen or I would see something interesting and I’d think oh Gemma would love this …”

“Lou … I’m sorry. I don’t even know how much of it was real feelings and how much of it was just being emotional over you moving away. The moment you left I wanted to apologise but I was so incredibly stubborn and I let it go on too long, way too long.”

“Gems I always saw you as a sister, I still do. Also, I’m gay.”

There was a beat of silence and Louis held his breath. Gemma put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes on a smile. She opened them and looked at him and it was the same, the same way she always did when they were teenagers and Louis felt his heart expand. They were going to be in each other’s lives. He knew that. He had his friend back.

“Thanks for telling me Lou,” she said with feeling, “but even if you weren’t you didn’t need a reason. I should’ve just been a better friend.”

“Okay, no more apologising, no more regrets and sorries,” Louis waved a hand between them. “I love you so much, I never stopped and we’ve got today and tomorrow and the rest of it to catch up and to get to know each other as we are now.”

Gemma beamed at him. She reached across the space between them and hugged him. Louis was just getting comfortable in the embrace when Gemma froze and abruptly pulled away.

“Wait a minute …” Her brow furrowed and she looked so much like Harry in that moment.

“Oh … Ooh,” she said, eyes wide.

“What?”

“It was you … fuck, it was you.” She was pointing a finger at him, her mouth slightly open.

“What?” Louis put both hands on her shoulders and shook her gently.

“Harry. A couple years ago he was playing me some of the music he was working on and he told me about a boy he’d fallen in love with in Secondary. He wouldn’t tell me who, only that he had blue eyes.”

Louis retracted his hands, a slight blush coloured his cheeks.

“When he called from L.A. he wasn’t himself, he was so down but every time I’ve spoken to him since he’s been so bright and happy, practically giddy and now he calls me and tells me that both of you are in Donny and that you’ve been staying with him for almost two months.”

Gemma covered her mouth with a manicured hand so all Louis could see were her eyes dancing, light bouncing around inside them.

“And the way he looked at you and the way you looked at him …” she mumbled, her voice distorted. 

She dropped her hand and folded her arms. Gemma blinked, her large eyes almost comical. She pursed her lips, trying to hold her laughter. 

“It’s a good thing my parents didn’t have any other kids.”

“Gemma!”

“All the Styles siblings in love with Louis Tomlinson, the scandal.”

“Oh god,” Louis groaned.

Harry walked into the room. “What are you guys talking about? I feel so left out. There’s only so long I can wander around a one bedroom flat ...” His voice trailed off as he took in Louis’ scandalised expression and Gemma’s mischievous grin.

Gemma jumped up from the sofa and slung an arm around Harry’s neck. “Hey baby brother, did I ever tell you about the time I had a crush on your boyfriend?”

“What?”

*** *** ***

They’d left Gemma so she could run errands. Louis was feeling light and at peace and being back where he grew up was putting him in a contemplative mood. He’d been back plenty of times for holidays and visits but this felt different in many ways. For one, Harry was by his side.

Louis was seeing new angles to his interactions with Harry from when they were kids. He was examining them in different ways and he could see it a little now, the way Harry used to look at him. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed, why he’d been so oblivious to it.

They were strolling along a deserted football pitch. For a while Louis had been on the football team at his school and they would usually practice and play their games here since the school didn’t have its own.

Driving past, he’d asked if they could stop for a while. He’d imagined himself a professional footballer many times growing up even though he knew that acting was what he wanted to do more than anything else in the world. It was just nice to think about. Playing a footballer on screen was probably the closest he would ever come.

“I loved watching you play,” Harry said, standing still and linking his arm with Louis’.

“Really?”

“Yea, you were really good … and you looked so hot in your kit.”

Louis looked at Harry. Something about the way Harry spoke, his voice rough and dreamlike, caused a flash of arousal to streak through him.

“I watched that charity match you did on telly a couple years ago and your arse in that white uniform …”

“Harry …”

“I’ve fantasised about that, you just off the field, glistening with sweat … it’s just the way you move babe, I’ve lost count over how many times I’ve gotten off just thinking about your arse.”

“Not gonna lie, you’re turning me on.”

Harry looked at Louis seeing the heat in his veins reflected in Louis’ eyes. Harry hadn’t meant to confess all of that but it was the truth. Louis pressed up against him and palmed his cock. Harry bit his lip. Louis mimicked the action.

“Lou what are you doing?”

“I want to suck you off Harry, right here.”

“Wha-- Lou…” Harry was shaking his head even as he pressed more into the pressure of Louis’ hand.

“We can’t, people might see.”

“There’s no one here Haz, we can go back there.” Louis tilted his head to indicate a patch of woods stretching out behind the football pitch.

Harry’s breathing escalated, his cock hardening rapidly. God, that sounded so hot. It sounded like everything Harry wanted.

“Lou,” he whined even as he let Louis lead him across the field into the shade of the trees. 

They walked quite a ways in and settled behind a tree trunk wide enough to hide their bodies from view.

“This is so bad, so reckless …” Harry trailed off as Louis pushed his hands up under his t-shirt. He raked his nails down Harry’s chest, making sure Harry really felt it.

Louis kissed along Harry’s neck. “No one’s going to see.” He bit down gently on Harry’s ear.

“Okay, yea. Okay.”

Louis smiled as he sunk to his knees and freed Harry’s cock from his tight jeans.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he said as he kissed and tongued the tip. 

Louis hadn’t even really started and Harry was already so gone. He looked down, watching under heavy lids as Louis’ lips stretched around his cock. Louis’ eyes were closed like he was savouring it and Harry groaned. Louis opened his eyes unexpectedly and looked up at harry with an almost smug expression. 

The effect of Louis’ sharp cheekbones and long eyelashes, of Louis’ eyes and the smirk he could see in them made Harry press his hands into the bark, digging his nails in to keep from losing control of his hips and thrusting into Louis’ sinful mouth. Louis knew what he was doing, Harry saw it in his eyes, he knew the effect he had, how he drove Harry wild and he was revelling in it.

Louis worked him, grazing him with the just the right amount of teeth. It sent shockwaves up Harry’s spine and his mouth fell open in a silent cry, the intensity of the sensation stealing his voice completely.

Louis took him all the way down and Harry looked at the top of Louis’ head bobbing back and forth. He had to get a hand in the mess of brown hair, had to feel Louis in some way. He gripped the back of Louis’ head, lightly guiding him along the length of his cock. Louis moaned around him at the contact, sucking him faster, harder. The sound of it echoed off the trees and filled Harry’s ears until it was all he could hear. The sound was debauched, erotic and Harry couldn’t help the babbled profanities that fell from his lips.

Somebody could see them. It wasn’t likely but it was possible and Harry screwed his eyes shut at the thought. It made him want it more, rougher, wilder. Someone could walk into these woods and see him wrecked against this tree, his hair a sweaty mess clinging to his neck, Louis wrapped around his cock.

Harry felt it then, he was going to come. He tried to find his voice to tell Louis and when he did Louis cupped his arse, pushing him closer. Harry came, biting his lip until it hurt to stay quiet. Louis sucked him, taking all of it that he could. 

Harry opened his eyes, seeing Louis through dancing spots in his vision. Louis was licking a stray bit of come from his lips, eyes closed as his pink tongue made sure he got every drop. Harry felt a swooping in his stomach, a crippling impact at the sight. Still trembling, he put a hand on Louis’s shoulder beckoning him to stand. As soon as he did, Harry spun them, pushed Louis against the tree and slipped a hand under the waistband of Louis’ jeans. Louis gasped. He was rock hard and leaking.

“You’re already making a mess,” Harry groaned in his ear, feeling the pre come and smearing it with his fingers. Louis whimpered, bucking against harry’s hand.

Harry worked quickly and with shaking hands, freed Louis enough to get a good grip on his thick cock. He stroked it with quick, sure movements. Louis threw his head back, small whimpers escaping his lips.

“Is this what you like Lou?” Harry said hotly against Louis’ neck.

Louis moaned.

“You like it out here in the open where anybody can walk by?”

“Fuck.”

“Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles fucking in the woods for anybody to see?”

“Oh god, yes.”

“Me too baby, fuck, me too.”

“Harry fuck I-- I’m--” 

Harry swiftly fell to his knees and sucked Louis’ cock into his mouth. Louis dug his fingers into the flesh of Harry’s shoulder, doing his best to keep quiet as he came hotly into Harry’s mouth. Harry pushed louis hips against the bark, pinning him in place as he sucked and swallowed. The taste of Louis on his tongue and the pain of the fingers gripping his shoulder was one of the most pleasurable experiences of his life.

Harry let Louis’ cock slip from his mouth and sat back heavily on the grass. “I cannot believe we just did that,” he said from behind his hands as he tried to catch his breath.

“Good?” Louis asked, breathless.

“Fucking incredible,” Harry said as he tucked himself back into his jeans. “I can still taste you and we’re back in our hometown and …”

Louis pushed away from the tree and reached a hand out to help Harry up. He stood on shaky legs.

“I can still taste you too,” Louis said, drawing him in for a kiss.

*** *** ***

Louis drove them around for a while after. They were a bit dazed as if they were on a high that they couldn’t quite come down from. Harry held Louis’ free hand in both of his, playing with Louis’ fingers, tracing patterns with his own.

They told each other stories about some of the places they passed, like the library where Harry had found a book about songwriting when he was twelve and decided to it would be better off staying at home with him permanently. His mum found it stashed under his bed months past due and scolded him. He’d felt so bad after but then she’d gone out and bought him his own copy along with a few others.

Louis told him about a book he’d been using for research in Year Eleven that was about fifty years old and how one page had ripped just a little when he’d turned it. It was barely noticeable but he’d felt so bad like he was actively destroying a historical artefact. He’d stuffed it back onto the shelf too ashamed to tell anyone.

They laughed at themselves and each other and stopped by what had been their favourite ice cream shop back in school. Being the favourite was helped along immensely by the fact that it had been the only one in walking distance.

The shop’s owner Mrs. Winkleman remembered them and beamed when they entered. She rushed around the counter to give them both hugs and bemused, they reciprocated. She told them how proud she was of them and their accomplishments, how proud everyone was and without meaning to they both became a bit bashful under the praise. 

She told them how much her grandkids adored them both, one was more into acting and the other music but they were both such big fans of each. They ended up recording a short video for both of them together and signed two of the shops t-shirts so they could have as gifts. Louis asked her to keep them for a few days before giving them to her grandkids in case they ended up online. He doubted it would cause much fuss but asked just to be cautious. For some reason he wanted these few days at home just for him and Harry and their families. She readily agreed and he knew she would keep her word.

When they made their orders, Harry almost got a simple frozen yogurt but a deadly side eye from Louis had him order a salted caramel milkshake with whipped cream instead. He begrudgingly admitted that Louis was right and it’s what he’d really wanted to get anyway. Harry also told him that he shouldn’t look so pleased with himself considering he had mint chocolate chip ice cream on his nose. Louis went cross eyed trying to lick it off and Harry almost dropped his milkshake as he laughed.

“I’m so ruined for dinner,” Harry said as they walked along a path in the small park that was about midway between their houses. He rubbed at his stomach thinking maybe he should’ve gotten the smallest sized shake.

Louis smiled up at him. “It was worth it though wasn’t it.”

“Yea it was,” Harry said.

Harry’s parents wouldn’t be home until later and he was going to join them for dinner while louis had dinner with his own. Louis planned to tell the rest of his family tonight and he didn’t seem nervous. They’d talked about it some and Harry was so grateful that Louis had a family that he knew would support him.

“Swings!” Harry jogged ahead and settled into one of the old red seats. He tested the weight of his adult body and was confident it would hold.

Louis joined him at a much more leisurely pace and took the seat beside him.

“You’re a child,” he said as he pushed himself into the air.

Harry rolled his eyes fondly staying stationary as he let his milkshake settle.

They stayed there for a while, mostly chatting at first but as time passed Louis became more quiet, seeming a bit lost in his head. That was usually more of a thing Harry did so he found himself looking at Louis with slight concern.

“What?” Louis asked when he noticed Harry staring. He’d been at it for a while and Louis had only now noticed.

“Why are you so quiet?”

Louis looked up from where he’d gotten lost in his thoughts. “You know, there was a time I couldn’t wait to get out of here.” He pushed forward on the swings lightly, swinging back and forth a few times before stopping the motion with his feet in the sand.

“Me too,” Harry said.

Louis was looking at him, almost scrutinising in his gaze.

“What?”

Louis shook his head slightly. “I still can’t believe you really liked me all this time.”

“Believe it,” Harry said simply.

Louis quirked an eyebrow “Sure you’re not over it yet?”

“I’m only now really getting into it.”

“It’s silly but I worry sometimes.”

“About what babe?” Harry asked turning his body on the swing more to face Louis’.

“Worried that I’ll do something and the illusion will be shattered for you.” Harry looked confused so Louis tried to explain what he meant. “What about when we fight and I say something or … I’d never deliberately hurt you but I feel like I can’t possibly live up to the image of me that you’ve carried with you all this time. It’s a lot of pressure.”

Harry’s leaned back a little, understanding washing over his features. He hadn’t really given much thought to the idea that this could be daunting for Louis because of the torch Harry had carried for him for so long. He needed to make sure that Louis understood what this was, what he was feeling.

“I get why you’d feel that way Lou. I’ll be honest, I idolised you when we were kids but that’s because of who you were. I never forgot how kind you were to me, how nothing I said was too silly for you to take seriously, how you always looked out for me.”

“I missed you every day after you left and I watched all your movies and yea I wrote songs about you, I did put you up really high. The thing is though, you kind of deserve to be there.”

Louis made a face in protest even as his eyes glistened, causing them to sparkle in the late afternoon sun.

“I never thought in a million years we would end up here,” Harry said, hands gripping the metal chains of the swing tightly to steady his thoughts. “I never thought I would get to hold you, kiss you, love you. And the reality of it is so much better than anything I could’ve ever imagined.”

Harry stood up, reached a hand out to Louis and pulled him into his arms.

“The Louis in my mind was perfect, infallible, the Louis I’ve gotten to know, the Louis I’m in love with, is _human_ and that’s so much better. You’re so much more and I’m so happy and you’re happy. Of course we might fight, we’re both dramatic hoes, a musician and an actor we’re fucked in that regard but so what?”

Louis laughed and Harry could hear his tears in the sound. Both of their eyes were watery, threatening to overflow.

“I’m grounded Louis, trust me. I love you for who you are, not who I thought you’d be. You don’t have to live up to anything, you’re already everything.”

Louis took a shaky breath, clinging to Harry. He was on his tip toes, his arms around Harry’s shoulders as Harry’s hands splayed across his back.

“I’ve never … I didn’t know it could be like this.” Louis stood back taking Harry’s face in his hands. “Why are we always crying?”

“I don’t know,” Harry’s face crumpled in some combination of a laugh and a cry.

They held hands as they walked across the park, heading back to Harry’s car.

“What if I … I’ve told myself for so long that I was okay with how things were but now there’s you and I want to … I …”

Harry gripped Louis’ hand tighter as they ambled slowly across the dry grass giving him as much time as he wanted to say what he needed. 

“It’s starting to feel like a second skin, restrictive in a way it hadn’t before. It’s been this way for a while. It was the thing that sent me to that bar where I found you again and it’s only been growing but I don’t know if I’m ready to come out yet.”

“Just be you. We don’t owe anyone anything. We make art and we share it because we love it and because there are people out there who need it, who appreciate it but this can be just for us for however long we want it to be.”

Louis looked at him, this man who he loved so much he could burst with it. “This is ours,” he said “and when we’re both ready we’ll share it.”

“Ours,” Harry said with a squeeze of his hand.


	6. Chapter 6

They’d been back in London for about two days. Louis was outside in the courtyard reading over a script James had sent overnight for Louis to look at. Titled, _Long Way Down_ , It was the kind of movie that would open a festival like the Toronto Film Fest and Louis was so engrossed that he could hardly put it down.

Just a little while ago, Harry brought him tea and with a quick peck of his lips, disappeared back inside the flat. Louis could hear the faint strumming of a guitar but instead of being distracting it was the perfect backdrop to the words on the page.

The trip home had been more than both of them could’ve hoped for. The catalyst was Louis wanting to come out to his mum and his family but it had been good for both of them to spend some time there. They stayed for almost a week, Louis with his family and Harry at home with his. They’d separated the clothes Louis had bundled together while laughing and chiding themselves for not thinking that one through. 

Harry even did a short acapella performance just for Louis’ sisters much to their eternal delight. Lottie, the oldest who was spending her summer abroad, demanded a Skype session so she wouldn’t miss out completely.

Louis turned another page, picking up his phone to tap out some notes to himself about the character James wanted him to play. The part was his if he wanted it. It was the first time he hadn’t had to audition for a role. He was coming to terms with the reality of that and could still hardly believe that James really had that much faith in him. 

Phone in hand, he inevitably found himself distracted when Mari messaged him. She was currently in Paris and was sending Louis emoji filled messages about the boutiques she was visiting. Louis smiled at his phone. They’d been in stasis for a while now with their scheming and it was just about time to renegotiate their contract for real. Louis closed the messaging app and dialled her number.

“Louis!” Her voice was bright as if she’d been in the middle of a laugh.

“Hey, cutting quite the path through Europe aren’t you?” Louis sat back in the cushioned chair, fingers fiddling with the edges of the script he’d placed on the table.

“Best two months of my life,” Mari sighed.

Louis knew the feeling and he knew it was time. “Mari, I think we should talk.”

“Yea, we should,” she said quietly. “The sooner the better really.”

Louis agreed.

“Shall I come to London tomorrow?”

“Actually, I think I’ll come to you.”

They arranged a place and time to meet and Louis ended the call, taking a few moments to just breathe. He knew what he was doing. He was taking steps. Small ones, but important ones.

“Harry. Harry! Harr-- Hazza!”

“What!” The strumming stopped.

“Let’s go to Paris tomorrow!”

“What?” Harry’s head appeared in the doorway.

“Paris. Tomorrow. Us.” Louis leaned his head over the top of his chair, looking at Harry upside down.

The rest of Harry’s body materialised as he clapped his hands in delight and came outside to lean against the table next to Louis. He was excited but also curious. Louis told him the reason for the impromptu visit and Harry’s eyes softened, his whole face showing his affection. He reached out and stroked Louis’ cheeks, bending down to kissed him lightly.

*** *** ***

He’d left Harry sitting on a bench, legs crossed, sunglasses in place, hair flying and a leather bound journal open on his lap. His fingers hadn’t stopped moving over the pages of his writing journal from the moment they’d stepped off the plane earlier this morning. He admitted to Louis that he had the most erratic writing habits. It was a kind of anywhere, anytime thing and being in love and in Paris meant his mind was overflowing with words. Louis was hopelessly endeared by him and kept looking back, stealing glances of his boyfriend as he set off to meet Mari.

Louis adjusted his sunglasses and picked up his pace once Harry was out of sight. His boyfriend. The term still made him smile. It made him feel younger than twenty seven. It made him want to doodle on notebooks and combine their names on paper. It made him do things like change the home screen on his phone to a candid photo he’d snapped of Harry bent over his journal, one large hand holding it in place as his pen scratched words out with the other. It made him sneak more of Harry’s clothes into their suitcase than his own which resulted in the slightly oversized t-shirt he was currently wearing. When Harry saw him in it, he attacked Louis’ face with kisses and rolled the sleeves further up his arms so they wouldn’t be too long. 

Having a boyfriend meant he would have someone to come home to even when he left to start production on James’ new film. Louis hadn’t called James yet but he knew he would be taking the part. He’d known it from the moment James told him to expect the courier with the script.

He stopped to check his fringe in a shop window and grinned at his reflection. Continuing on his way he got so lost in his thoughts that he walked right past a waving Mari seated inside the window of a charming cafe.

“If you make me run, I will end you!”

Louis whipped his head around and saw Mari standing just outside the small restaurant, a good distance behind. He looked around him sheepishly and then rolled his eyes at her as he approached.

“Has anyone told you, you’d be great at theatre? Your voice … it carries.” Louis said as a greeting, opening his arms for her.

“The hypocrisy is strong in this one,” Mari retorted even as she held him in a tight embrace.

They walked into the cafe hand in hand. Louis couldn’t help but think that Ryan, his publicist, would love that. But it wasn’t for anyone else but them, authentic, the way their interactions had been lacking for a long time. Before anything else, Mari was his friend, someone he’d leaned heavily on for a long time and he loved her.

The space they entered was crisp and clean and smelled of heaven. The scent of coffee and sweet pastries permeated the air and Louis’ mouth watered.

“I know,” Mari said to him with wide eyes, “I was dying waiting for you to get here.” 

Louis laughed and tugged her to the glass case up front. A tattooed barista was busy making expressos behind the bar. There were a few people scattered around at long tables and booths, tapping away at laptops over cups of coffee.

“Oh, do you want to try the cheesecake?” Mari asked.

“Uhm …” Louis’ face coloured without his permission and Mari looked at him curiously. Louis honestly didn’t think he could ever eat cheesecake again after his and Harry’s first date. Unless he was with Harry of course. 

Mari snapped her fingers in front of his face and Louis apologised for zoning out on her. She shook her head and got herself a selection of muffins while Louis chose a slice of lemon cake.

“We’re supposed to be having this talk with our teams,” Mari said to him, her Chanel sunglasses resting in the wild curls flowing from her head. She smiled, cherry red lipstick pretty against her olive skin.

They’d settled into the window booth Mari had been sitting at earlier with their food and coffee.

“Yes well, when have we ever done exactly as we’re told?” Louis asked with a quirk of his brow and an amused purse of his lips.

“Sometime around never,” Mari agreed, tearing pieces of a muffin.

They looked at each other, properly for the first time in months, the first time since their ‘anniversary’ dinner. Except, no, they hadn’t really seen each other then either. They hadn’t properly seen each other for a while. Being able to look past the veneer they’d plastered around themselves to the real person underneath had become increasingly difficult. It was easy for Louis to look at Mari as a weight and vice versa. When you had to pretend for so long it was easy to lose some things along the way. 

Louis was happy that he could sit in this cafe across from Mari and know that they were both okay with themselves and with each other. He was about to tell her this when she spoke first,

“You’ve fallen in love.” She said it was so much confidence and such affection and Louis couldn’t help the blush that coloured his cheeks.

“How do you know?”

“Oh Louis, you’re glowing. We don’t even need the sun when you’re walking around like this.”

Louis decided there was nothing he could do but tell her all about Harry, how’d they reconnected and the amazing two months they’d spent together.

“He’s here with me.” He said after he’d gushed to her for some time.

“Ooh here together in the city of love,” she waggled her eyebrows and Louis snorted. “We must have dinner together so I can bask in his beauty.”

“How do you know he’s beautiful?”

Mari looked at him over the rim of her coffee. “You love him, that means he must have a beautiful soul, like yours.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“This is true.”

“Humble as always.”

“I try.”

Louis basked in their banter, in the ease of it. They had been so close to losing that by the end and he was grateful to Mari for being who she was and talking to him the way she had on his balcony the morning after he’d left the restaurant. It could’ve all gone another way, easily taken the opposite course and then they wouldn’t be sitting here now.

“It’s time, isn’t it.” Mari said softly.

Louis nodded his head. Yes it was.

“I’ve fallen in love too,” she said then.

“Really?” Louis sat up more, searching Mari’s face.

“Yes, can’t you see _my_ glow?” She pouted, turning her face from side to side so Louis could see all angles. “I saw yours.”

Louis laughed and leaned on the table. “You're always glowing Mari so it’s really hard to tell. Also, that highlight is magnificent.”

She made a face at him, but she was endeared, he could tell.

“She’s beautiful Louis, like a walking dream,” she said on a sigh. “I think I’m ready Louis. I want to come out. I don’t know when or how but our time is done isn’t it hon.”

“Yea, it is.”

“Thank you Louis,” Mari said and there were the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

“Don’t thank me Mari. I walked out on our date. I’m sorry I did that.”

“Don’t be. I wasn’t upset. If you hadn’t, I may have left you instead.” Mari started on her second muffin. “I had at least two desserts after you left. It was nice. My management yelling at you was not me yelling at you. You know this, you know how we are. We’re both tired of this. I could see it on your face and I’m sure you could see it on mine.”

Louis reached out and placed a hand on top of hers.

Mari looked at him, her gaze steady and intense. “Even though our contract is up, just know that if you had needed I would’ve hung on a little longer.”

“No,” Louis said, affected.

“Yes,” Mari retorted. She gripped his hand, her manicured nails digging into his flesh. “We were both in this together and I think you seeing me, us seeing who we really were, is the thing that made this bearable for me.” Mari released him and sat back, crossing and uncrossing her long legs.

“Shayla is going through it right now Lou.” Mari’s eyes were shining. “She’s so at her wits end and her team, they don’t care because she is a new starlet who has to date her hot _male_ costars. 

“You know what her agent said to her the other day? He said, as a dark skinned black girl, she should be happy she’s getting the roles that she is so early in her career so she shouldn’t tempt fate by being gay too.”

Louis physically recoiled, slumping back in his seat.

“It can get so … so wrong sometimes,” Mari continued, a harsh edge to her voice. “I know that if I didn’t have you, if we didn’t decide to shield each other, it could’ve been much worse for me.”

“Fuck. It’s not right.”

“No, but we’re all ready, ready to say fuck you, this is who we are and that’s a huge thing Louis. Shayla too. She’s my beautiful girl, that walking dream I told you about.”

Louis lit up. “I fucking told you. From the minute I met her, didn’t I say you two would be prefect together?”

“Yea, yea you get zero credit.” Mari dismissed him, starting on her third muffin. 

“Some of the credit.”

“Infinitesimal,” she said, holding her thumb and forefinger close together to show him just how little.

“I’ll take it,” Louis said, finishing the last of his cake. “What will she do?”

“Her mom is going to take over as her manager and we both know the kind of nightmare that can be but in her case I think it’s the right thing. She’ll fight for her daughter in a way that nobody else would. She has me. She has James, he said he’d make movies for no other reason than to cast her in them.”

“He would.”

“I know.” She dusted crumbs from her fingers. “She’s here with me. Has been this whole time.” Her smile was blinding.

So while Louis had been with Harry, Mari had been travelling Europe with Shayla. The brightness of her smiles and the sheer joy emanating off the screen when she sent him messages, now made even more sense than it had before. They were both in a good place, with remarkable people in their lives.

“I have to thank you too Mari. The past four years have been crazy for the both of us and you’ve been so fucking amazing, and a wonderful friend. If it hadn’t been for you I don’t know what these past four years would’ve been like.”

“I hate you. I’m crying and this mascara is not waterproof.”

“Not waterproof? You’ve got no one to blame but yourself love.”

*** *** ***

Louis was sprawled on their immense hotel bed with Harry by his side. Harry had devoured the lemon cake and the brownie that Louis had snagged for him on the way out of the cafe. Now they were discussing Louis’ conversation with Mari and talking over how Louis’ career might change when he came out. He’d decided that he wanted to, it was just a matter of when and how. They both figured there’d be less headlining action movie roles but Louis didn’t mind if that was the case. He’d loved doing Fool’s Gold with James, it had been much deeper and more nuanced than the usual blockbuster fare and it’d been so much fun but he didn’t really see that for himself anyway.

“More of a Zachary Quinto, less of a Tom Cruise,” Louis mused, kissing Harry’s fingers.

“Okay, but you’ve got more of the height of a Tom Cruise,” Harry said with a teasing grin.

“Shut up Styles.”

Harry shrugged, “Just saying you can’t even reach the top shelf in our kitchen.”

“You mean the top shelf where you hide stuff so you can eye me like I’m food and you’re starving when I try to reach for it?”

“What? no…”

Louis laughed. “I heard you.” Louis poked at Harry’s side. “You said I could get it and you weren’t talking about the popcorn.”

“Oh my God.” Harry flushed, hiding his face behind his hands.

“You’re a dork Harry.”

“Yea well, you’re … short.”

“Low blow.”

“I had to so it could actually hit you.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

Louis fell silent. There was no arguing that truth.

“You love me,” Harry repeated with a touch of wonder.

Louis rolled them over so he was lying on top of Harry. “Yea I do,” He said. “How much time do we have before dinner?”

“Enough,” Harry said, voice already taking on that rougher quality that drove Louis wild.

Louis was biting and sucking at his favourite spot on Harry’s neck when his phone rang.

He ignored it. Harry put a hand to the back of Louis’ head, pressing him closer, moaning just the way Louis liked to hear.

Louis’ phone rang again, somehow sounding shriller than it had the first time.

“Ugh,” Louis groaned into Harry’s neck. 

He reached for the phone, teasing Harry’s nipple with his other hand as he absentmindedly checked to see who was daring to disturb them.

“It’s Ryan,” he said to a breathless Harry.

“Maybe-- fuck … baby stop. Maybe you should get it.”

Louis cursed and sat up. He blew Harry a kiss as he answered the call.

“What did I do now?” Louis asked in lieu of a greeting.

“Louis there are candid pictures of you and one Harry Styles, looking very cozy and domestic in a London food market, circulating online.” Ryan sounded tired. 

So, even if Carla didn’t take a photo, some others clearly did. Louis was curious to see them. He knew the photos wouldn’t be over the top or even too suggestive but he still wanted to see what he and Harry looked like from the outside.

“Add that to a fan vid of the two of you in an ice cream shop in Doncaster and the fan account of you saying Harry is one of your favourite people at a LGBT+ charity event and well … both your fan bases are coming together and there’s a lot of chatter. They’re calling you two _Larry_.” 

_Larry_. Really? Larry made Louis think of a lorry driver, which made him think of him and Harry running away together to start a new life driving goods across Europe. They would document the whole thing on snapchat and instagram as they went. _Adventures with Larry_.

“Ryan--” Louis was about to make a flippant remark, rib Ryan the way he sometimes did but Ryan cut him off.

“You’re on speaker. I’ve got Simon and Mark here.” 

That made Louis sit up a bit straighter. His manager and agent were all gathered in a room with his publicist. Louis sighed.

“You’re making it hard for me to do my job Louis,” Ryan spoke with a little hesitation, almost like he didn’t want to be doing this. “You didn’t tell anyone you would be running off to London--”

“And you definitely didn’t tell anyone you’d turn up publicly with an _out bisexual_ British singer,” Simon cut in. There was a hint of distaste there that made Louis pause.

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. His relationship with Simon and Mark both had started to turn rocky over the last couple of years. He could pinpoint the start of it to the first time he began to feel tired and weary with the closeting. It wasn’t a subtle shift either, it was as if he woke up one day feeling like he’d rather never having to see either one of them again. If only they knew just how _public_ he’d been with Harry they would both have coronaries and leave him alone forever.

“You’re this close to fucking shit up, flaunting around in front of everyone with this no name singer.” Mark chimed in.

“I’m sorry, was I shagging in Trafalgar Square?” Louis asked, voice rising, “Also, just because you don’t know his music doesn’t mean you get to condescend.”

“No, he’s no name for a reason.” Simon’s voice was patronising. “He’ll sing his little venues but he’ll never be mainstream, he’ll never really make it. Do you want to be dragged down and forgotten like he will be?”

“Fuck you Simon.”

In his peripheral vision Louis could see Harry become much more alert at his outburst. There was no way in hell that anyone would get to talk about Harry like that. Yell at him if it helped them to get off but touch Harry and he would rip their balls off, manager and agent, Louis didn’t give a fuck who they were.

“Are you sure you want to take that tone with me?” Simon asked, his voice low and menacing.

Louis was absolutely sure. “You can be the president of the goddamn United States, don’t think for one fucking second of your life that you can say things like that and I’ll just take it.”

“Guys please,” Ryan interjected. Louis could hear the stress in his voice. “I’m happy for you Louis and you should spend your time however you want, with whomever you want but a heads up is always appreciated.” Ryan spoke with sincerity and Louis believed him. 

Maybe Ryan deserved a fruit basket. Louis had really been giving him more grief than usual lately with his and Mari’s scheme. There was a fine line between pretending to be difficult and actually being difficult. Really, he’d been giving Simon a hard time too but Simon could choke as far as Louis was concerned.

“Yea well, I’m not happy about any of this. Any of it. If you ever want to land anything like Fool’s Gold again you need to start making better choices,” Simon said.

Louis felt as if something had stolen his breath. He was so incredibly angry. He felt Harry pressing his body up against his and Louis leaned into it, closing his eyes as he thought of how to make his response as colourful as possible.

“Simon, excuse me, but what the fuck?” Ryan cut in before Louis had a chance to.

“If you’d pull your head out of your ass you’d see that he’s right. He’ll ruin his career.” Mark fired back at Ryan, defending Simon because of course he would.

Louis exhaled. “Do you guys need me for this or …”

“Everything’s a joke to you isn’t it Tomlinson,” Mark said.

 _Tomlinson_ , alright then. _Fuck you too Mark_.

“Well this conversation is clearly turning into one, so I don’t blame him.” Ryan’s tone was cutting, more than Louis had ever heard it.

“Yea, I’m gonna go.”

“This conversation isn’t over Louis,” Simon said.

“Except for the fact that it is.” Louis disconnected the call. 

He almost felt like he was throwing Ryan to the wolves but he really couldn’t deal with anymore of that and expect to be anywhere near civil for the moment. He was far too angry, tunnel vision and seeing red, angry.

Harry remained still, fixed in place, letting Louis lean against him and steady his breathing. Louis’ fists were balled up and his chest was heaving. When his phone chimed with a text he almost threw it against the wall. Instead he curled his fist tighter around it until it hurt. The phone chimed again and again and Harry finally moved, reaching out and gingerly tugging on it until Louis released it from his grip. Doing so let some tension out of him and he started to feel the rest of his body relax and his breathing begin to regulate.

“Hmmm, they’re from Ryan,” Harry said quietly holding the phone so Louis could see the screen.

_Well, that escalated quickly._

_I meant what I said. I’m happy for you and I’m so sorry that you had to hear any of that shit._

_I’ll work with you anyway I can, whatever I can do I will._

_You two look great together and it’s so good to see you smiling like that._

Louis laughed a little, calming further. “Did you read them?” He asked Harry. Harry shook his head indicating that he hadn’t. Louis turned the screen around and gestured that he should. 

Harry’s eyes quickly scanned the messages and relief washed over his face. Louis knew that Harry had been tense too, he felt it in the way Harry was holding his body so still, not daring to move, to even stir the air in the room.

“God, imagine if we were like kissing or something, I mean who knew market shopping could be so anger inducing,” Harry said, running his hands up and down Louis’ arms.

Louis laughed and twisted his body to give Harry a kiss. It was a loud smacking of lips that made Harry’s dimples pop and just the sight of them made Louis sigh.

“Cuddle me Harry,” he requested. The mood they were in before the phone call was well and truly gone but neither of them were the kind to refuse the opportunity to just hold each other.

Harry laid on his back and Louis rested on Harry’s chest, hooking one of his legs over Harry’s thigh. Harry’s arm curled around him, hugging him close and with his other hand he played with Louis’ fingers, tracing along them with his own. Louis closed his eyes and eventually told him about the other side of the phone conversation. Harry was grateful to Louis for standing up for him and let Louis know it by kissing as much of him as he could reach, which was really only the top of his head until louis shifted and connected their lips. 

They stayed that way, twisted together, the afternoon Paris sun filtering through their hotel room’s window, until it was time to get ready for dinner.

*** *** ***

Harry was rummaging through their suitcase for the third time.

“It’s not in there babe,” Louis told him as he arranged his hair into a quiff.

“Yea but like, maybe if I search the same place multiple times it’ll miraculously show up,” Harry whined, laughing at himself as he looked for his scarf one last time. He wanted to wrap it around his hair and had been making a disaster of their room for the past ten minutes in his search.

“I promise if we pass a store on the way we’ll stop and get you one.”

“Thanks love but I want that one, it goes perfectly with this top.”

“Not even if it’s Hermès?” 

Harry stopped and turned in place, “Well … I could be persuaded…”

Louis made a face at him that said good luck with that and Harry pouted, then stuck his tongue out as Louis laughed. 

“Don’t play with my heart like that Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis pulled his black jeans up his legs and kissed Harry on the cheek as he walked past him. Harry didn’t have to know that Louis had already bought him one earlier. Not yet anyway. Mari had helped him to pick it out and had gotten one for Shayla at the same time. It had felt so good to do that, to go shopping with Mari, not for the cameras, not to sell a distorted reality but just as friends buying pretty things for the people they loved. Being able to share that had brought them closer and he couldn’t wait for Harry to met her and Shayla both.

Thinking of that brought his mind back to Ryan. For the first time Louis found himself really wondering what it was like for Ryan, to wake up in the morning, get ready for work, kiss his husband goodbye then manage Louis’ PR, to do everything he could to keep Louis’ hetero persona alive. That must be a weight for him too. Things that should be simple can often be so messy.

Simon and Mark’s words stayed with him, gnawing at his bones. Louis knew that his manager and agent had always been the most adamant about him maintaining his straight image and Ryan was the one tasked with keeping that image alive in the media. He knew this but still, the way both men had spoken unnerved Louis.

He knew on many levels he was a commodity. His talent and his work ethic went a long way in helping their careers too and there were people on his team who would do anything to make sure his value remained as high as it possibly could but not because they cared about him as a person. They only cared about the business, the success, the money, the ego.

Not everyone in the industry could or wanted to be like James. Not everyone cared about his well being. Louis needed to make changes. So many things in his life and heart had already shifted and with Harry he now had another person who he knew would always be on his side.

“Babe, you alright?” Harry asked, walking towards him.

He’d been standing in front of the mirror staring past his own reflection. Louis allowed his vision to focus and he found that he very much liked what he saw. He was whole, so incredibly whole. He loved the person he was and was proud of who he'd become and no amount of industry bullshit was going to change that. He’d maintained his sense of self, his core, through the ups and downs of the decade he’d spent on the screen. He had a career he loved, his mum and dad, his siblings, James and his family, Mariella, Shayla and Gemma. He had the most wonderful man currently wrapping strong arms around his shoulders.

“I’m alright love, just thinking.” Louis looked at the picture he and Harry made, framed in gilded gold. It was a good one, a complete one.

“You’re beautiful Lou, just stunning,” Harry said.

Louis turned and looked into Harry’s green eyes for a moment before reaching up and connecting their lips in a brief kiss.

“Thank you for loving me, even when I had no idea. Thank you for never stopping. Thank you for every single line of every single song. Thank you for agreeing to come to London with me, for being here with me now. Thank you for being exactly who you are.”

Harry swayed a little on his feet, taking a breath through his slightly parted lips. He was so incredibly affected, he was speechless.

Louis cupped Harry’s face, letting his fingers run slowly along his jaw, caressing Harry’s cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m going to love you forever Harry Styles. Forever.” 

“Lou …” Harry fell into his arms then, just folded into Louis, letting him take the weight of it, knowing that Louis would. 

Louis vowed silently to tell him everyday, to always remind Harry. He’d been immortalised in song because Harry believed he was worthy of it. Harry had seen him so completely from so young, believing in him, loving him from afar even more than many others who had been so much closer. Louis would never forget that. 

Eventually, Louis pulled back, holding Harry at arms length to look at him for a little while.

“Ready to go?” Louis asked.

“If you are,” Harry said.

“With you, always.” Louis said it was a quick rise and fall of his eyebrows and a lopsided smile. Harry’s dimples appeared, deep, as he blinked away wetness in his eyes. Louis linked their hands and pulled them towards the door.

Over dinner, the four of them drank way too much wine and ate way too much food. Harry got along with Mari and Shayla from the moment he met them and couldn’t help but marvel at all of them being together, enjoying each other’s company with such ease. If someone had told him a few months ago that he would be sitting in a Parisian restaurant having dinner with his boyfriend, his boyfriend’s ex beard and his boyfriend’s ex beard’s girlfriend, Harry would’ve scoffed and dismissed it as the ridiculous prediction it was. But there they all were.

They met up with the girls again during the four days they spent in Paris. Shayla and Harry wore their Hermès scarfs wrapped around their hair as the two couples roamed about the city for the day. No one was expecting them to be there and as they kept to themselves and to the less crowded attractions and sights, they managed to stay under the radar and just be two young couples in love.

On their last day, Harry showed Louis the bones of a new song. _End of The Day_ was the tentative title. Harry told him it was for Mari and Shayla. He’d been inspired by a conversation he’d had with Shayla about when she’d realised she had fallen in love with Mari. It was hopeful and filled with positivity.

_All I know at the end of the day_  
_Is you love who you love, there ain’t no other way_  
_If there’s something I’ve learnt from a million mistakes_  
_You’re the one that I want at the end of the day_

No matter how difficult Shayla’s position in particular may be, they knew who they were and what they wanted and in Harry’s estimation, love like that deserved to be sung about.

_When the sun goes down I know that you and me and everything will be alright_  
_And when the city’s sleeping_  
_You and I can stay awake and keep on dreaming_

*** *** ***

“Paris was so much fun babe.”

Harry wrapped both of his arms around one of Louis’ and hugged him close, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder. London evening passed them by through the windows of the cab they’d gotten from the airport. It was grey and wet. Louis rested his head on top of Harry’s.

“It really was, wasn’t it.”

“You’re the worst with advanced planning though aren’t you?”

“I am not.”

“Lets go to London Harry. When Louis? Tomorrow. Let’s go to Donny … right now. Paris. Tomorrow.”

“Okay yea I see your point. Don’t mean to drag you around all over love.”

“Please do. I love it. I don’t have that kind of spontaneity on my own. It’s nice.”

“It is but I’m glad to be back. I’m knackered.” The last words came out around a yawn.

“Me too, forgive me if I fall asleep before we actually get back home.” Harry settled further into Louis’ side and Louis dropped a kiss on his hair.

Harry fell silent then, his quiet breathing and the sloshing of the tires on wet pavement keeping Louis company until they pulled up outside Harry’s flat.

“Uhm, is that who I think it is?” Louis asked Harry who’d just stirred from his position on Louis’ shoulder.

“Who?” Harry peered through the rain soaked window and his eyes narrowed as soon as they made contact with the figure standing on his stoop.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” There was steel in Harry’s voice that Louis had never heard before.

Harry opened the cab door and stepped out into the London drizzle. He ran a hand through his long hair as Louis walked up beside him, holding the handle of their suitcase in a tight grip.

Louis completely ignored the man standing in front of them in favour of assessing Harry. His jaw was clenched and Louis knew that meant he was angry. But he also seemed relatively calm and there was a confidence about him that put Louis at ease. 

“Babe, I’ll deal with this and be up in a minute,” Harry said for only Louis’ ears.

“Are you sure love?”

“I am.” 

Harry kissed him, a quick peck on the lips and Louis squeezed his shoulder passing him all the strength he could. He walked past Harry’s visitor wordlessly, unlocked the front door and pulled their suitcase inside. 

“Cute. A bit rude,” Nick drawled. 

“I care neither for your words nor your tone,” Harry said, brushing past Nick and making his way inside. He watched as Louis disappeared up the stairs. Clearly Nick hadn’t recognised him. Harry turned back to face Nick just inside the threshold and crossed his arms.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“No, wasn’t planning on it.” Nick was standing on the top step. That really was as far as Harry planned to let him get.

Nick looked Harry up and down, eyes assessing and a lot less sure than they’d been when Harry had first arrived. “You’ve changed.”

“You have no idea.” 

If Nick noticed the difference in Harry then it really must be substantial.

“You’re a lot meaner than you were a few months ago.”

“No I’m not, I’m just a lot less likely to be here for your shit.”

Nick’s eyebrows rose and he took an unconscious step back. Harry titled his head and looked at him. He’d dyed his hair blonde from the deep brown, almost black, colour it naturally was. Harry noticed this in a detached sort of way, the way someone noticed the colour of a car passing by on the motorway.

“Please tell me what you want so I can say no and continue to live my life.” Harry leaned against the doorframe. 

He was aware that he was being unbelievably cold but it was no more than Nick deserved. Harry had lived through this scene before, more than once during their relationship. He’d tried playing it different ways but had always ended up caving. 

“We should get back together love.” Nick said, voice soft and inviting.

Harry’s eyes widened and his lips curved upward. Today was clearly going to have a different outcome.

Nick either didn’t notice Harry’s reaction or didn’t care. “You may think you’re having fun with whoever that guy is but it’ll never be like how it was with us.”

Harry snorted. “That’s really not helping your case.”

“You need me Harry. I know you miss me, there’s no point pretending that you don’t--”

Harry laughed so hard he almost fell over. The sound of it cut Nick off mid sentence. 

Was this the part where he was supposed to go running back to Nick? Was he supposed to have a tearful conversation with Louis, telling him that even though what they had was great he couldn’t turn his back on the years he’d spent with his ex? If that was the case, Harry would rather die.

Nick was clearly confused. Harry laughed some more.

Was he supposed to be angst ridden? Confused? Torn? No, he’d done all that, felt all that. The artist in him had had it’s fill and the person Harry was now had no tolerance for settling for less than he deserved. Nick or Louis, it wasn’t even a competition. They shouldn’t even be in the same sentence.

“Please do get the fuck away from my flat,” Harry said, wiping at his eyes. 

For the first time where Nick was concerned, the wetness in Harry’s eyes was from laughter and not emotional pain. Harry wondered if Nick realised the significance of that. He shook his head. If Harry knew anything about his ex it was that he was too self-absorbed to look further than himself, so reading people and situations was not exactly a strength he possessed.

“You’ll regret this Harry,” Nick said, proving Harry right.

“I haven’t thought about it but … no.”

“You’ll come crawling back, you know you will.”

Those words, those pissed him off. He wasn’t laughing anymore. 

“I would crawl over fucking fire for the man waiting upstairs for me right now. I’d crawl over nails and spikes. I’d crawl up a mountain if he was waiting at the top of it. But for you? Not a chance.”

*** *** *** 

Harry was standing in the living room when he heard the front door open and close. Louis was back. The smile on Harry’s face was instantaneous. Louis had slipped out a little while after Nick left. Harry had been so lost in his head that he hadn’t even noticed. 

“Babe,” Louis called from the kitchen.

Oh no. Why was he in the kitchen? This couldn’t be good.

“Yes love?” Harry tried to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

“Everything alright?” Louis asked as Harry came into view.

“Perfect. He won’t be coming back.”

“Oh god, did you bury him under the flagstones in the courtyard?”

“Lou!”

“What, when I left you were standing out there and I could swear there was a shovel in your hand.” 

Harry laughed and Louis opened his arms. Harry walked into them and let Louis hold him for a moment.

“You good babe?”

“Good. I promise.”

“Alright.” Louis kissed him, placing soft pecks on his nose. Harry wrinkled it as he laughed and turned his face so Louis could attack his cheek instead.

That’s when Harry saw them. He cast a wary eye at the carrier bags Louis had apparently brought back with him. They sat suspiciously on the counter. Harbingers of doom.

“Louis,” he said in a warning tone, as he backed out of Louis’ arms. “why did you go to the shops?”

“So, I figured you would need some cheering up and I thought to myself what would my beautiful boyfriend like more than anything in the world? My self said … another set of mystery ingredients to make dinner with.” Louis said this complete with jazz hands and a big grin.

“No. no, no no no,” Harry groaned, even as he moved closer to inspect the bags, even as the smile he was trying to hide kept breaking through. “You need to stop doing this shit Lou.”

“What was that? Never stop doing this shit Lou? Okay, if you insist.”

Louis stepped back, sweeping his arms in a grand gesture, “Take a look my love and tell us what tonight’s dinner will include.”

Harry stepped forward and started to take the items from the bags. His eyes growing wider with each one.

“Uhm, we have, edamame beans, whiskey, chicken livers and … grape liquorice? The fuck?”

Louis was rubbing his hands together, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Harry contemplated the ingredients for a moment and then without warning, he ran from the room.

“I’m ordering pizza!” he yelled behind him and Louis dashed after him, jumping on his back to impede his progress.

“Don’t you dare!” 

They tumbled to the living room floor, a mess of limbs, and laughed until their stomachs hurt. Louis only got him back to the kitchen by promising to be sous-chef, doing whatever Harry told him to.

“If you had to do this, what would you make?” Harry asked, poking at the chicken livers.

Louis made a show of thinking for a moment then pushed everything except the bottle of whiskey aside. 

“Dinner’s ready,” he quipped, pointing to the bottle standing alone on the countertop.

“Stop it, I can’t laugh anymore, my face hurts,” Harry complained, nudging Louis out of the way, cheeks round and dimples on full display.

Louis stayed true to his word to play helper, even managing to bite his tongue when Harry told him to melt the liquorice down with the whiskey on the stove. They laughed and bickered, ribbing each other as Harry tried desperately to concoct something edible from the disaster Louis had provided. 

“What’s the key to making anything taste good?” Harry asked at one point.

“I dunno, what?” Louis was in the middle of processing some of the edamame, the bright green colour was quite mesmerising. 

“Fry it,” Harry said as he coated the chicken livers in breadcrumbs.

louis couldn’t disagree.

By the time dinner was ready, Harry had been able to set aside the mental weight of his conversation with Nick. He’d laughed until he was breathless and he’d even managed to make something he was pretty proud of.

They slumped together on the sofa with their feet up on the coffee table, balancing plates of fried chicken livers with a whiskey and liquorice sauce on a bed of greens surrounded by edamame puree. 

“Not bad at all babe. I’m going to have to step my game up,” Louis said when they finished eating. He was pretty damned impressed that Harry managed to get him to eat liver and not hate it.

“Bring it Tomlinson,” Harry said around a yawn.

“Convincing,” Louis said with a gentle smile, tugging on a lock of Harry’s hair.

Harry hummed as Louis’ fingers made their way to his scalp, massaging lightly. He closed his eyes and slouched further, making himself as small as he could to fit into Louis’ side.

“I can fall asleep right here.”

“Me too, but let’s go upstairs. It’s been a long day, I wanna shower, and get under the covers.”

Harry groaned but slotted his fingers with Louis’ and let him pull him up from the sofa. Louis led him up the stairs, his feet like lead on the carpet.

“I’m going to fall asleep in the shower and crack my head open Lou.”

“I won’t let you.”

Louis didn’t. He washed Harry’s hair, reaching up, careful not to miss a spot even as his own eyelids grew heavy. He held Harry under the spray, touching him everywhere with gentle, quick fingers, the feather light touches making Harry tremble against him.

When they were as clean as they could possibly be, Louis sat Harry down and towelled him dry while Harry leaned into him, making little satisfied sounds in his throat. If Harry was a cat he would be purring Louis mused. He smiled at Harry even though Harry’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t see it. He smiled because he was so immensely happy. Nothing could touch them or this thing they’d managed to find. A few months ago Harry was the little brother of his best friend from secondary school. Now, tonight, Harry was his anchor, his compass, his home.

They’d found each other ten years after Louis hugged him goodbye. They’d found each other by chance without trying, almost as if it was fated. Louis had wondered if he’d wasted time by not seeing Harry the way Harry saw him all those years ago but he believed now that no he hadn’t. It wasn’t their time then. 

He tucked Harry into their bed. As soon as Louis’ hands left him, Harry mumbled a protest at their absence. Louis shook his head fondly as he walked around to the other side and climbed in beside him. Harry turned on his side and pushed backwards, bringing his body closer to Louis’ at the same time that Louis moved to curl around him. They fit together in a way that they really shouldn’t with Harry being so much taller, but it worked. It worked beautifully. Louis swept Harry’s hair to the side and kissed his neck, his skin was soft and sweet. Louis breathed him in, the scent of the shower gel and of Harry himself mingling together to lull him to sleep.


	7. Epilogue

Louis heard a low moan and glanced over to see Harry touching himself. He was running his hand slowly down his chest, pulling and rubbing at his nipples on each pass. He turned to look at Louis through half closed lids.

“I need you Louis.”

Louis swallowed thickly. He looked Harry up and down once and put his eyes back on the road. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

Louis couldn’t get them home fast enough. He was grateful that he’d become familiar enough with the streets from his time here that he didn’t require Harry’s assistance. Louis didn’t think he’d get much out of Harry at the moment.

He wasn’t fearing much better either, so painfully hard he could barely concentrate on navigating. He knew Harry always got heated when he got tattooed but this was different. Louis could still feel the sting of the needle marking his first bit of ink, a compass pointing to home. It was the perfect complement to the intricate British ship Harry had inked on his bicep at the same time.

They’d bound themselves together with words and love and now with images inked into their skin. It was intimate, private while still being visible, both tangible and intangible and something about the experience was driving them both to the brink.

It had been months, enough time for the leaves to show their multi-coloured hues on the trees in the heath the last time they had a picnic there. Enough to need jumpers and Harry’s arms wrapped even more tightly around him when they stayed up too long like they always did.

They’d settled into each other, nestled into the bones and fabrics of each other’ lives with a permanence that sometimes still startled them both. It was heady to think about on most days but right now, ink freshly wrapped and their flat in sight, it was almost overwhelming.

“Upstairs,” Harry said, voice rough and demanding when they finally made it inside.

Louis practically ran, taking the stairs two at a time to get to there quicker.

Harry stalked around the bed as Louis spread himself out on it. He reached forward and grabbed Louis’ calves pulling him to the edge. Louis looked into his eyes as Harry crawled over him with slow, deliberate movements. He planted his hands on either side of Louis’ head and Louis fisted his hands in Harry’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss, or just to feel the weight of him, Louis wasn’t sure which but he would take both. 

Harry connected their lips in a hard, wet kiss. It lacked their usual coordination and had none of their accustomed grace. Harry was biting at his lips and Louis pulled his hair, hard and sharp, enough to yank his head back.

Harry growled. “Fuck, yes!”

Oh, Harry was going to be so loud, Louis could tell. He pushed Harry off him and Harry let him, rolling to Louis’ side. Louis slipped off the bed and made quick work of Harry’s clothes. He popped a few buttons away from the cloth in his haste but all it did was make Harry hiss and throw his head back. Finally naked, Louis took a brief moment to let his eyes roam over Harry’s body. His collection of tattoos had always been a turn on but seeing that ship amongst them, knowing what it meant, knowing it was there for him made Louis desperate in a way he’d never been before.

He fell to his knees in between Harry’s legs as they hung off the bed. Harry propped himself up on his elbows and looked at him. His chest and stomach were rising and falling with his rapid breaths and his nostrils flared. Louis gripped Harry’s cock, so long and thick, the perfect fit for his hands, his mouth, his arse. He whimpered a bit at the thought and made to sink his mouth down around it. Harry’s hand was already in Louis’ hair, ready to guide him down the way Louis’ liked but he only made it just past the head before he stopped, pulled his mouth away and stood. 

“Lou why are you stopping?” Harry whined.

“I know what you want Harry and it isn’t this.”

Harry’s brow furrowed as he gathered himself and stood in front of Louis. He put his hands on Louis’ hips and moved them slowly to his cock, palming it through his jeans.

“What do I want Lou?” 

God, Louis was sure he could come from Harry’s voice alone.

“You want to fuck me and I mean really fuck me. And I want you to, so come on H, make me come.” Louis planted his hands on Harry’s chest and pushed him backwards as he spoke. 

Harry stumbled back a few steps and his eyes flashed. There was an intense focus in them that hadn’t been there a moment ago. That’s what Louis wanted to see. Louis knew what the look on Harry’s face meant and already he was squirming in anticipation.

Harry stripped him without ceremony and in record time. Louis used Harry’s shoulders for balance as he stepped out of his jeans and pants and Harry used that leverage to gather Louis in his arms, turn around and drop him in the middle of the bed. Louis’ body bounced a bit on the mattress from the impact and he was already leaking, so incredibly turned on by the way Harry was manhandling him.

No matter how he teased, Louis loved being smaller, he loved when Harry towered over him, loved when Harry’s large hands arranged his limbs just the way Harry wanted them.

Harry turned Louis over roughly, laying him out on his front. Louis gripped the edge of the mattress because he knew what was coming and god he couldn’t wait. He wouldn’t even have to beg for it. All he had to do was lie there and get it just the way they both wanted it.

Louis wriggled impatiently waiting for the feel of Harry’s fingers at his hole. What he felt instead was Harry’s tongue as he licked a stripe up his arse. He smacked at it lightly as he spread Louis and licked again, tonguing at his rim. 

“Fuck, I wish I had the patience for this right now, just to eat you out for hours but I need to be inside you.”

Louis whined, Harry’s words causing his whole body to flush.

“You want my cock don’t you babe?”

“God, yes, please.”

Harry got the lube and wasted no time slicking his fingers and giving them to Louis. One finger, two, he was careful as always but there was an edge to it, an urgency that had Louis rutting against the white sheets. By the third, Louis was begging for Harry’s cock but Harry gave him one more and his eyes rolled.

Harry pulled his fingers away, leaving Louis feeling empty. He could hear him fumbling with a condom, opening the packet, and he shook his head back and forth as best he could trying to find his voice.

“You want it bare baby?”

“Please … want to-- want to be full of your come.”

They’d done this a few times now and Louis loved the feel of it.

Harry moaned and swore, throwing the foil packet to the floor. Louis waited with bated breath as Harry slicked himself up. He spread Louis’ thighs wide and entered him, pushing past the ring of muscle, slipping in like it was made just for him, only for him. Louis was so close already he knew he wouldn’t last long, not with his cock pressed into the sheets the way it was and not with Harry’s body draped heavily over him, pinning him down.

Louis tried to muffle his cries at first until Harry told him not to, told him to let them out. Harry wanted to hear him and, fuck, Louis wanted to be heard. He stopped censoring himself, letting Harry know exactly what he was doing to him, exactly how it felt. As Harry pushed into him over and over, he reached an arm out and grabbed hold of Louis’ hand, covering it in his larger one as Louis gripped his fingers as much as he could.

Louis was right. Lasting wasn’t an option. He came hard, the force of it pushing all the air out of his lungs. Harry wrung it out of him, thrusting as Louis writhed, as he cried. Right when it was getting to be too much, too sensitive, Harry came, filling him just the way he liked.

“That’s one,” Harry grunted and Louis heaved a sobbing cry.

“You alright baby?” Harry asked, crawling up Louis’ body to kiss down his neck.

Louis nodded on an inhale, his chest heaving against the mattress, his come smeared under him. Harry dragged one long finger down his back, following the ridges of his spine, over the swell of his bum and between Louis’ cheeks, over his rim and the come seeping out of it.

Louis gasped, clenching his teeth. Before he could form words, or even think clearly, Harry’s tongue was back at his hole, licking it, tasting his own come and causing Louis to tremble.

“Fuck, I just can’t help it,” Harry whined pulling away to bite and suck at the flesh of Louis’ bum.

Harry spread him open, rubbing his fingers over Louis’ hole before lowering his head and licking him properly with the flat of his tongue. Louis ground his hips into the mattress, his fingers keeping a death grip on the sheets. Harry kept licking him over and over and Louis didn’t think he would survive this, didn’t want to.

Harry pushed past Louis’ rim with his tongue, fucking into him relentlessly. He rubbed at his taint, encouraged by the high pitched keening coming from Louis’ mouth. Harry wouldn’t stop and kept sweetly torturing Louis until he could feel his cock filling again. Louis still wanted more, still needed more.

“Please Harry, more …”

“What do you want baby?”

“Your cock…”

“You just had it,” Harry said, slapping Louis’ arse just hard enough for it to sting a little.

“Fuck!” Louis arched off the bed, writhing in the way he always did when he was overheated and losing control. “Need … more …”

Harry stilled him, pressing his hands into Louis’ hips and just like he always did, Louis became pliant, only the sound of his whimpers and moans filling the room.

Harry ran his hands over Louis’ arse, soothing the skin, feeling the softness. He rubbed and grabbed at the flesh until Louis started to feel impatient again, wanting to feel Harry so badly he could think of nothing else.

Just as he was about to beg, demand, something, Harry pulled him to his knees and pushed into him again. Louis cried out. It was so good, it was always so good with Harry. There was no way he could hold himself up, not even on his elbows and he fell forward on his forearms, turning his face sideways on the mattress. 

As Harry fucked him, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist and one on his hip, Louis wondered what it would be like to do this forever, to feel just this, to fuck until they couldn’t anymore, until there was nothing left.

Harry changed his angle until he found Louis’ spot and then fucked him right there, expertly, hitting him over and over and Louis’ mind became a stream of Harry, Harry, Harry. With every stroke, it felt like he went deeper, pushed further and Louis could feel it in his core. Harry increased his pace and Louis was a sobbing mess, face red, eyes screwed shut, and mouth open as he wailed and begged Harry for more.

He could feel the heat pooling again and he grabbed at Harry’s hand pulling it around him and to his cock so that Harry could feel his hardness. Harry moaned long and deep and gripped him around the base as he continued to move.

“Don’t stop, don’t you ever fucking stop,” Louis cried.

“Never,” Harry grit out, his thrusts wilder, almost manic.

Their skin, sweaty, slapping together loudly, echoed in the room and Louis was on fire.

“Make me come Harry, make me,” he wailed out into the mattress. Tears were streaming down his face and he was absolutely and completely wrecked. 

Caught between Harry’s thrusting and the grip on his cock there was no where to go, no way to manoeuvre, no leverage, just complete trust and abandon.

His face in the sheets, a mixture of sweat, tears, and drool he came again, wrecked cries wrenched from his throat.

Harry came on a shout, gripping Louis’ hip so hard, Louis knew it would bruise. Louis couldn’t wait to see it. 

They stayed connected for a moment as they came down before Harry pulled out slowly and laid beside Louis, gently gathering him to his chest. For a long while neither of them spoke. Louis was still a mess of come, both his and Harry’s and his head was spinning too much to be coherent. There were still a few tears leaking from his eyes and Harry wiped at them as Louis settled against him. The silence of the room was disrupted only by their still harsh breathing until Harry waved a hand weakly, indicating their sweaty bodies.

“Babe, that was incredible. You are incredible.”

Louis hummed, his lids heavy with sleep. “Can we get tattooed everyday?”

“You want to get more tattoos together?” Harry asked, his voice sounding tired but hopeful.

“If I’m going to get fucked like that every time, I’m going to run out of space on my body right quick. Just saying …”

Harry laughed into his neck and gathered him closer.

*** *** ***

In a few weeks Louis was going to be in the Irish countryside, filming _Long Way Down_ on location, freezing his arse off for the sake of art. James told him he was being overly dramatic but Louis felt he was being just the right amount. Harry agreed with him but then Harry was always supportive.

He’d had the chance to introduce Harry to James when they’d travelled to L.A. recently for meetings. James had declared Harry his newest son. He’d been adopted and there was nothing he could do about it. Louis was so beyond pleased that they got along. Since then James had fallen for Harry’s music too and passed his love of it along to Hans, the composer who worked on the score for all of James’ films. It was very much looking like Harry was going to get some of his music in the film, something original that he and Hans would work on together.

Louis remembered the morning sitting out in the courtyard reading the script while Harry played somewhere in the background. The way the music had complemented the words on the page had felt organic even then.

Harry’s team was all over that opportunity and Harry himself couldn’t believe it was going to happen. This would be big for him, he knew that but even more than that, it was the prospect of seeing his and Louis’ names in the credits for the same movie that had him the most excited.

Their worlds were converging even more because it was a real possibility that Louis’ name would be in the liner notes for Harry’s next album. Harry had started recording and in the mix of songs he’d penned were two he’d written with Louis and one Louis had written himself.

 _Stockholm Syndrome_ and _No Control_ had been written together, mostly naked if Louis was being honest. 

The first was the result of a few too many days locked in their bedroom.

“Would you laugh at me if said I had an idea for a song?” Louis asked, still catching his breath.

“No, never. Tell me please.”

“Okay, it’s about how much I like having sex with you.”

Harry had smiled and reached for his journal. 

_Who’s that shadow holding me hostage?_  
_I’ve been here for days_  
_Who’s this whisper telling me that I’m never gonna get away?_

A couple days later, Louis was at it again. Harry was rubbing and kissing Louis’ wrists having just untied them from his silk Hermès scarf when Louis spoke up, 

“So I’ve got an idea for a song.”

“Tell me,” Harry said, kissing his neck.

“It’s about how much I like having sex with you.”

Harry had laughed for a full minute before getting his journal out.

 _I’m all yours’ I’ve got no control, no control_  
_Powerless_  
_And I don’t care it’s obvious_  
_I just can’t get enough of you_  
_The Pedal’s down, my eyes are closed_  
_No control_

Harry joked with him saying that compared to his first album, if he put these songs on the second, his fans were going to rejoice and say he’s done pining and finally getting some.

Then, there was Home. The one Louis had written alone, late at night while Harry had been asleep. 

_Make a little conversation_  
_So long I’ve been waiting_  
_To let go of myself and feel alive_

He’d cried while he wrote it, picking at the melody on one of Harry’s guitars, thinking of that night in L.A. when they’d both been so lost and so very tired. He thought of the days he spent with Harry, falling in love with him and learning what it really meant to be loved in return.

_I was stumbling, looking in the dark_  
_With an empty heart_  
_But you say you feel the same_  
_Could we ever be enough?_  
_Baby we could be enough_

The words flowing out of him felt like a catharsis. He remembered standing on Westminster Bridge wanting so badly to give in but for some reason feeling like he couldn’t, that he shouldn’t. But he had, thank god he had and he’d found so much more than he thought he ever would.

_And it’s alright_  
_Calling out for somebody to hold tonight_  
_When you’re lost, I’ll find the way_  
_I’ll be your light_  
_You’ll never feel like you’re alone_

_I’ll make this feel like home_

He’d sung the rough draft to Harry feeling incredibly self-conscious about his efforts and his voice. Harry’s eyes had shone from the first line and they’d ended up a mess of limbs and tears just holding each other.

Louis apologised about his voice, Harry spent fifteen minutes trying to convince him to quit acting and form a band with him. They’d laughed still wiping tears from their eyes and it was the first song Harry recorded.

Louis shifted on the sofa he’d been planted on for the past hour and a half. He was in the studio with Harry today, flipping through a very rough draft of a script he’d written. Harry was in tense discussion with Julian the main producer for his record. He was talking with his hands, waving them about, clearly enthusiastic.

His record label initially wanted him to record in L.A. to get a feel for it as he would be spending so much time there with the US push they were planning but Harry had insisted on London. For this record he needed to be here in the middle of all the memories that he and Louis had made.

“It’s for the art,” Harry had sighed to Paul, gripping his arm and putting a hand to his forehead, surreptitiously winking at Louis in the process. Paul had only scoffed fondly and let him get on with it unimpeded. 

Louis flipped another page of the script and smiled as he came across notes Harry had written, scribbled in the margins. This was Louis’ first real attempt at writing a screenplay. He’d written it in bed, in the music room while Harry worked on songs, on park benches, in cafes. He’d scribbled pieces on napkins and takeaway boxes.

It had been the reason for the great Pizza Box argument of 2016.

“There was an entire scene on the inside of that lid Harry!”

“How was I supposed to know that? It was empty,” he shrugged.

“It wasn’t empty it was filled with words!” Louis’ voice was loud.

“I can’t do this with you right now.”

“It was a rimming scene Harold. Rimming.”

“What kind of movie are you writing?” Harry back pedalled when he saw Louis’ face. “Okay, I’m sorry but like … you could always rewrite it, maybe do some practical research first …

“You are unbelievable.”

He did rewrite it with Harry peeking over his shoulder the entire time, pouting at his refusal to recreate it with his tongue, promising never to throw out any empty food cartons again and finally moaning in pleasure when Louis stripped him and ate him out until he came mostly untouched.

Louis tutted to himself, picked up his pen and scribbled out an entire section. He checked the time on his phone. He had a few hours until he had to call Shayla. They were discussing forming a small indie production company with James’ backing and support. They wanted to bring to the screen more stories for and about LGBT+ people, movies that were as diverse as the community was, told by them with care and love and perhaps even inspiring other young artists, actors, directors and writers in the process.

Louis also wanted to come out sometime next year before the release of _Long Way Down_ and the plans were already being set in motion. His and Mari’s public relationship had ended and they were both seemingly single. Louis snorted as he thought of the reaction of some of his fans to that particular bit of news. They weren’t exactly weeping for him as much as they were planning his wedding to Harry styles. It was amazing to see that kind of support and it reassured him that everything was going to be okay.

As much as Harry liked to make fun of him for checking his Twitter mentions, Louis had done a double take one night when he’d gone in for a cuddle and saw a photo of the two of them in an almost naked embrace on Harry’s phone.

“It’s not real babe,” Harry had said, laughing as Louis grabbed the phone for a closer look.

“Oh my god,” he said, squinting at the photo manipulation.

“I know,” Harry said. “You should see some of the artwork.” He took his phone back, scrolling through it as he laughed. “There’s some good ideas there to be honest.”

“Wait. Harry Edward Styles, do you have a tumblr account?”

“Maybe,” he’d said sheepishly.

“The hypocrisy!”

Louis had teased him relentlessly even as he followed him from his own account.

Their respective teams were doing their best to keep the chatter down for now and Louis, deciding to give Ryan the break he so clearly deserved, was being on his best behaviour. Still, if neither Harry nor Louis heard the term ‘mutual promo’ again, it would still be too soon. The words had lost all meaning already and it had only been a couple months since it was first bandied about in relation to their plans.

Apparently, Harry could be instrumental in raising Louis’ profile in the UK and Louis would be invaluable in Harry’s US push. Harry side eyed his team’s giddy enthusiasm while simultaneously recognising that this was the way things worked. He would put the breaks on if they suggested a marriage ceremony in the middle of Arrivals at LAX.

Louis’ team gave him the distinct impression of the ‘making lemonade from lemons’ saying. He brushed it off knowing that it was soon time for some major changes in his management anyway. He would keep Ryan and his firm on as his PR, the rest would be dumped into a fiery inferno. James was giving him some great advice in terms of who he could trust and who he should stay far away from going forward.

There was so much to look forward to, both in their careers and their private lives, both together and individually and though Louis felt invigorated whenever he thought about it all, it was still the soft things, the quiet moments that he and Harry shared that made everyday into something special.

It was the feel of tucking himself under Harry’s arm and laying on his chest as they watched television or standing in the kitchen in fuzzy socks, drying dishes as Harry washed them, chattering about nothing at all. Waking up to Harry covering his face in kisses because let’s face it, Harry almost always woke up first and slotting his fingers with Harry’s when they took walks. Louis still couldn’t believe he had these things. He still couldn’t believe he had them with the man who’d grown out of that curly haired boy from school.

He’d always known Harry was special, he just didn’t have any idea how much so until now. The perfect person for him, his home, had been there for so much longer than he’d known. Harry had known, he’d known all along that Louis was the one. He’d written songs for him before he was even eighteen. He’d sung those songs, immortalising his love for Louis while Louis had been away, oblivious to this monumental thing that had been brewing for a decade. Now it had exploded into a symphony of colour, bright and saturated, covering everything that they touched and it was so right, so stunning, so perfect.

Harry flopped onto the sofa next to him. He seemed grumpy, brow furrowed and his, ‘I didn’t get my way’ pout, firmly in place.

“What’s wrong babe?” Louis asked, poking at Harry’s pouted lips. Honestly, how could anyone refuse Harry anything? Louis would never understand it.

Harry captured the digit and pecked it before sighing and slumping further into the cushions. “Julian won’t let me have trumpets.”

Louis was confused for a second before their conversation the night the song was conceived came back to him.

“Oh babe Julian has no idea what he’s talking about.”

“Right? Ugh.” He threw his hands up in frustration.

“You sound amazing though Haz. It’s really coming together.”

Harry lolled his head to the side to smile at Louis. It was a tired one. He’d been pushing himself relentlessly in the studio. He’d told Louis now that the fire was there he had to get it all out as soon as he could. He was anxious and so excited and Louis was so incredibly proud of him. 

Louis put down his screenplay and straddled Harry’s hips. Julian would just have to close his eyes. If he saw something he didn’t want to, he only had himself to blame for refusing Louis’ baby.

Louis leaned forward and brushed their lips together.

“Olivia,” he whispered.

“Olivia.” Harry smiled, capturing Louis’ lips in a soft, sweet kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [Crows-onthewire](https://crows-onthewire.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Come say hi :)
> 
> Just for fun, in order of appearance, here are the songs for the lyrics I used in the fic along with the writers for each one:
> 
> Something Great - One Direction (Written by: Jacknife Lee, Gary Lightbody, Harry Styles)
> 
> Leave Your Lover - Sam Smith (Written by: Sam Smith, Simon Aldred)  
> *(slight lyric change to reflect the story. the line should actually be, Leave your lover, leave him for me)
> 
> Oceans - Seafret (Written by: Roy Stride, Harry Draper, Jack Sedman)
> 
> Olivia - One Direction (Written by: Harry Styles, Julian Bunetta, John Ryan)
> 
> At the End of the Day - One Direction (Written by: Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, Julian Bunetta, Ed Drewett, Jacob Kasher, Wayne Hector, Gamal “LunchMoney” Lewis, John Ryan)
> 
> Stockholm Syndrome - One Direction (Written by: Harry Styles, Julian Bunetta, John Ryan, Johan Carlsson)
> 
> No Control - One Direction (Written by: Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, Ruth-Ann Cunningham, Jamie Scott, Julian Bunetta, John Ryan)
> 
> Home - One Direction (Written by: Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne, Jamie Scott)
> 
>  
> 
> One Direction songs used for Louis' movie titles:
> 
> Long Way Down - One Direction (Written by: Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne, Jamie Scott, John Ryan, Julian Bunetta)
> 
> Fool’s Gold - One Direction (Written by: Jamie Scott, Maureen McDonald, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson)


End file.
